


Unexpected Consequences

by Siebenschlaefer



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Resorting, Slytherin Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2019-06-30 14:14:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15753381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siebenschlaefer/pseuds/Siebenschlaefer
Summary: The Ministry letter after the Dementor attack has far greater consequences than everybody could have anticipated and at the start of his fifth year in Hogwarts Harry has to be sorted again. And this time there is no negotiating with the Sorting Hat.





	1. Consequences of a Ministry Letter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** I do not claim anything in the Harry Potter universe as mine. Everything belongs to the magnificent J.K. Rowling. I merely want to play a little in this wonderful playground she built.
> 
> **Warnings:** Severus  & Harry guardianship or mentorship, child abuse, bullying
> 
> **AN:** I should not start another story while working on my other two. But I really like resorting stories and this plot bunny really did not want to leave me alone. I wrote it down and left it for weeks. 
> 
> But it always came back and distracted me from my other fics. So, it grew, till I decided that I could at least publish the first chapter, to see how it will be received. As I am really don’t know where this story will go (the background story is settled, but the main plot not) I will keep the right to change warnings etc when needed.  
> This story is not my priority in the moment, so updates will be slow and irregular but I really wanted the plot bunny out of my head.
> 
> I am grateful for questions, remarks, grammar and spelling corrections message.
> 
> **This is now beta’ed by the brilliant vichan and Cameron Lindsey , many many thanks and hugs to them.** We will go over the already published chapters and then hopefully new ones will be coming!
> 
> Have fun reading.
> 
> **Let’s start the story.**

 

Harry Potter thought that his summer had finally taken a turn for the better. He had survived the Dementor attack, the shock from the Ministry letters, and the punishment from his Uncle and Aunt for nearly losing Dudley’s soul – which would have been an improvement to his character, in Harry’s opinion.

Vernon had been outraged because Petunia hadn’t allowed him to throw Harry out after the letter from Dumbledore. Vernon normally preferred to use his fists, but for the first time since Harry started Hogwarts he had reached for the belt and had gotten even more furious when Harry’s blood wound up on it.

_As if I could have avoided it_ , Harry thought darkly, wincing as he felt the half-healed welts on his back sting with every move he made.

And even after Dementors had shown up on Privet Drive, Dumbledore hadn’t decided to let Harry leave, but had left him there for another four days. It had been four long days locked in his room, complete with daily thrashings from Uncle Vernon and the bare minimum amount of food. By the fourth day, Harry had almost been wishing for a Death Eater attack.  

Finally, someone arrived to get him. His relief had been quickly replaced by anger as he was confronted with the fact that his friends had been with his godfather since early summer. The entire time he had been stuck at the Dursleys, alone, with their unhelpful and uninformative letters, they had been at Grimmauld Place. That hadn’t played out nicely.

Harry’s frustration and anger were overwhelming. He was beyond frustrated at being left with the Dursleys, as well as the utter lack of information. The injustice of it all made him want to scream in fury. Without him they wouldn’t even know that Voldemort was back. Harry was the one who had been tortured and had to fight for his life. And his reward? Being stuck with the Dursleys.

His lightning bolt scar tingled and prickled with pain on a daily basis, which also hadn’t helped to lighten his mood. His nights were filled with nightmares. He had barely slept more than three or four hours a night since coming back for the summer holidays.

To add insult to injury, when he had arrived at Grimmauld Place he hadn’t even seen Dumbledore himself. It seemed being attacked by Dementors, nearly being expelled from Hogwarts, and summoned to a disciplinary hearing wasn’t worth his personal presence or any reassurance.

It was no wonder that Harry was in a dark mood and particularly bitter with Dumbledore. Yes, he had been at the trial and Harry was sure that without Dumbledore they would have found him guilty, but to his confusion and growing irritation, Dumbledore had not once looked at him or spoken with him.

He felt abandoned and tossed aside, like he was nothing more than a tool which had lost its usefulness.

The bullshit with the Daily Prophet - how they had painted him as a lunatic - only added fuel to the fire. Harry wasn’t sure if he had felt anything other than acerbic anger for a while now.

But this - _this_ was the icing on top of the cake.

It had started with the arrival of the annual Hogwarts letters on the last day of August. With the excitement that Ron had been made prefect, it had gone overlooked for a few moments that there wasn’t a letter for Harry.

Everyone was confused, until Professor McGonagall had come through the fireplace with a letter in hand. It was addressed to Harry, in the typical green ink with the Hogwarts seal on it. McGonagall hadn’t said anything but simply waved at him to open it.

The content confused Harry even more. It was the same letter he had received in first year, only with the fifth-year book list:

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry…_

_A letter of acceptance?_ Harry gave his head of house a questioning look.

“Am I understanding you correctly, Professor, that due to the over-enthusiastic Ministry, I _really_ was falsely recorded as guilty before I even _had_ my trial?” Harry snarled, looking at Professor McGonagall in exasperation, who was sitting with him at the kitchen table.

“Mr. Potter, due to the exceptional circumstances I will overlook the tone, but I recommend that you attempt to control your anger,” Professor McGonagall said patiently. “And to answer your question - yes, that is exactly what has happened. The fact is that someone put your breach of the Degree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery due to performing a Patronus charm in a Muggle-inhabited area and in the presence of a Muggle down as a conviction. Instead of merely showing that you had been charged, that conviction declared you guilty”

“But that doesn’t even make sense! Dudley is my cousin, he already knows about magic,” Harry grumbled under his breath, which McGonagall thankfully ignored.

“The penalty for such an offence is the snapping of the wand and expulsion from Hogwarts. This was revised shortly after due to the interference from the Headmaster. Unfortunately, in this short time, the data bank of the jurisdiction registered you as convicted and updated the Hogwarts book of students, deleting your name from the list of students currently in attendance and adding it to the list of expelled students.”

“And this can’t be reversed?” Harry felt a little lightheaded.

“No, the systems are magically connected, and everything is automatically updated.” McGonagall answered.

“So…” Harry did not know what he wanted to say.

“As you were acquitted at the trial, the expulsion was void. But it can’t simply be reversed. Make no mistake, Mr. Potter, you are listed as a Hogwarts student. But you are not on the list of Gryffindor students. The magic of the book put you down as an unsorted student, like the first years. As the magic of the student book doesn’t allow a sorting outside of the school year, we have to wait until September first to get you sorted again.” McGonagall stood up, signalling that their conversation was about to come to an end. “I will take you aside when you arrive at Hogwarts. In the presence of the four Head of Houses and the Headmaster we will get you sorted - privately. Then you can join your friends at the Gryffindor table.”

It sounded like McGonagall was sure that Harry would be in Gryffindor again, which is exactly why Harry was filled with an odd mixture of terror and fury.

It was exhausting.

“That is everything as of today, Mr. Potter. You will be informed if something changes. I wish you a good day, and pray you enjoy the remainder of your summer holidays. We will see each other on the first of September.” McGonagall nodded to him and left through the fireplace.

Harry stood and walked upstairs - avoiding the room he and Ron shared - and went to the Black library instead. It still had not been cleaned out even though Harry spent a lot of his time there since arriving from Privet Drive. The room was dark, dusty and perfect for some solitude. Harry slipped inside, closed the door behind him and settled in an old armchair. Worry squeezed his stomach.

Harry wasn’t so sure that the hat would sort him in Gryffindor this time around. The hat had been quite insistent that he belonged in Slytherin the first time, and Harry had argued with it until it had finally put him in Gryffindor. Harry had a terrible premonition that there would be no negotiating with the sorting hat again.

The uncertainty made him uneasy, and just a little queasy.

Harry had always known that he possessed Slytherin traits. It was impossible to grow up with the Dursleys without developing some cunning, not if one was to evade Vernon’s worst moods.

His previous Hogwarts years and all the adventures they had had not diminished those traits.

In first year he had been happy but anxious to be sorted into Gryffindor with Ron. Harry hadn’t been sure if he would fit in or not. He knew already from primary school that his homelife wasn’t the same as other kids. He was not stupid - quite the contrary - and by the time he was five years old he had realized that the way the Dursleys did some things were definitely not normal.

He had observed the other kids in his dormitory and his house in order to adapt his behaviour, copying their mannerisms, trying to do what seemed to be expected of a typical Gryffindor. He didn’t want to attract attention to his homelife.

It had been hard in the beginning. Harry had never been a loud or bold child like the majority of the Gryffindors. But he had learned, and he had played his part very well.

He had to play the part. He had known what was expected of him the moment he learned magic was real, when Hagrid had told him, full of awe and excitement, about Harry’s fame.

The wizarding world expected a brave, cheeky and chivalric Gryffindor hero. They expected the Boy-Who-Lived and Harry made certain that they got what they wanted.

He had developed a routine which made it possible to hide the more prominent evidence that not everything was as everyone believed in the homelife of the Boy-Who-Lived.

He never showered with anyone else, always going before or after all the others. He always slept with the curtains closed and silencing charms, which he had learned in his first weeks at Hogwarts, around his bed. He never changed in front of his roommates or his Quidditch teammates. He was careful to wear a few layers of clothing, first because the castle was always cold and Harry was always freezing, and second to hide his too thin figure.

The Gryffindors had accepted and never questioned his behaviour. But what would happen if he really was sorted into another house?

His stomach twisted with worry.

This whole mess had started on the second of August, with the Dementor attack and the letters from the Ministry. Who could have predicted they would have such unexpected consequences? Harry remembered the moments after the attack quite clearly… his initial panic over the expulsion, Petunia’s shaken expression, and Vernon’s terrifying fury. The rest of that evening had been filled with pain.

Harry took in a deep, shaky breath, and glanced around the Black library for something to distract him from the memory of Vernon’s belt. He stood and went to one of the walls of shelves, which were full of books Dumbledore surely wouldn’t approve of and Harry hadn’t dared to open before.

Another wave of anger swept through Harry at the thought of Dumbledore, and Harry plucked a book off the shelf just to spite the headmaster.

 

* * *

 

A few hours later Harry walked into the kitchen to find everyone already seated at the table. As he sat down next to Ron, the others looked at him expectantly.

“So what did Professor McGonagall want? And why did she bring your letter personally?” Ron was the one to voice the question everyone wanted to ask, while Mrs. Weasley placed plates and bowls full of food on the table. Ron’s tone was carefully casual. Everyone was still wary of Harry’s temper after his explosion shortly after arriving at Grimmauld Place.

“They discovered that the whole situation with the warning letters from the Ministry and the trial had further consequences,” Harry explained.

“What consequences?” Sirius enquired. Harry had the suspicion that his godfather was not as happy as the others that he had been declared innocent. But Harry could also chalk that up to his imagination, influenced by his overall gloomy mood.

Harry sighed but decided to explain. “Someone in the ministry put my use of the Patronus charm down as a conviction and not a charge -”

“But this would mean you were guilty, and you hadn’t even had your trial at this point!” Hermione interrupted. “And the punishment for that is being expelled from Hogwarts and your wand being snapped!”

Harry looked at her, slightly annoyed. “Yes, I know. Dumbledore -”

“ _Professor_ Dumbledore,” Hermione corrected him, and Harry glared.

“Dumbledore got them to change that. But in the time between the first and second letters, I _was_ convicted. The book that keeps track of every Hogwarts student erased my name from the student population. Something about magical updates and so on.” Hermione opened her mouth to interrupt again but stopped at a fierce look from Harry.

“The expulsion can’t be reversed, though since I was declared innocent I was put back in the book as a Hogwarts student, but like a first year - unsorted. At the start of the new school year, I will be sorted again.” He saw Fred and George exchange worried glances.

Sirius looked rather grim, as he always did when the end of the summer and Hogwarts were mentioned. Harry could somehow understand this, when they left his godfather would be all alone in this dark and depressing house, which was full of bad memories for him. It was similar to Harry’s situation with the Dursleys, but there he at least was allowed to go outside - at least most of the time.

Sirius was at that moment the only person that Harry felt could understand his anger at the whole situation, which helped him feel connected to his godfather. But he had at least hoped that Sirius would be happy for him not to be expelled.

Ron shrugged. “That’s it? That’s the reason you were brooding and moping for the last couple hours?” he said in disbelief. “Come on, Harry - you know that they will sort you right. The hat will declare you as a Gryffindor and everything will be like it should be. What are you so worried about?”

Mrs. Weasley nodded at this and set a pot with steamed carrots and a plate of mashed potatoes in front of Harry. “Eat, Harry. You still look peaky.”

Harry didn’t say anything more, he simply shrugged and put a small portion of food on his plate and slowly started eating. _If Ron only knew._

 

* * *

 

Harry spent the rest of the day in the library. Thankfully the others had learned to leave him alone when he was in a particularly dark mood, which had been more often than not over the course of the summer. The worry of his upcoming sorting wasn’t dissipating. It was far worse than the anxiety he had felt over his sorting in first year.

The difference was that now he knew what awaited him, which made it all the worse. 

The probability of his being placed somewhere other than Gryffindor was actually quite high. If anything, his time at Hogwarts had fostered and encouraged some of his more Slytherin traits.

Harry was no fool and with his typical Potter luck, he would be sleeping in the same dorm as Draco Malfoy for the next three years. _Wouldn’t that be fun?_  

So he decided it better to be safe than sorry and prepare for the worst.

He had already spent much of his time in the Black library since he arrived at Grimmauld Place. He had felt completely helpless in the graveyard and when he thought back to all the dangerous situations, he had found himself in Hogwarts, he had realized that there had been too many times when he couldn’t defend himself. It was time to study on his own.

The vast and old library helped tremendously. Harry devoured books about protection spells and wards and tried to read ahead for Defence against the Dark Arts.

After Ron and even Hermione complained that he sometimes disappeared for hours, Harry tried to spend time with them, but he felt somehow separated from his best friends.

The return of Voldemort and his nightmares from the graveyard resulted in him not being a delightful and happy companion these days.

The only person who still sought out his company was his godfather, and Harry was surprised to discover how proficient Sirius was in some subjects. Sirius told him that because of the many protective wards, spells and charms on the house, Harry was able to practice magic here without fear of the Ministry’s Trace. Sirius helped him learn and practice, even introducing him to some darker hexes Harry was sure the others, especially Dumbledore, would not approve of.

Harry had even practised setting up protective wards based on a combination of ancient runes and spells, running them over and over until he was satisfied that they worked well enough. To his surprise, he had found that the subject of Ancient Runes was not as dry and difficult as he had once thought it was, and he actually rather liked it. So he studied it further, going as far as to look through Hermione’s school books from the previous years.

Now armed with the knowledge that he could wind up in Slytherin, Harry snuck some of the most interesting and helpful but also rather _dark_ books from the Black library into his trunk, hiding them under his invisibility cloak.

Sleep did not find him easily that night. He lay in his bed, Ron sleeping soundly in the other one, and worried about the next day.

 

* * *

 

Harry woke the next morning feeling groggy; it was far too early and all he could do was listen to Ron’s snoring. His stomach felt uneasy and his scar prickled. Knowing that sleep would not come again, he got up and went to the loo. After washing his face with cold water, Harry examined himself in the mirror.

His face was pale, but his cheeks had finally lost some of the hollowness he always had after some time with the Dursleys. His green eyes were clouded with worry hidden behind the old dark-framed glasses. His black hair was even messier than normal. His scar looked red and slightly inflamed, a normal sight this summer.

All in all, he looked as exhausted as he felt.

He took a quick shower without looking at the scars and barely healed welts on his chest and back, and he went back to the bedroom. Ron continued to sleep.

Harry opened his trunk to search for clothes. They would return to Hogwarts today, and even if it was summer, Harry always froze in the Scottish Highlands. He slipped on a pair of thick woollen socks that Dobby had given him. Rummaging through his trunk he found some thick grey sweatpants he had bought in the summer before third year, when he had slipped unnoticed into Muggle London during his stay in the Leaky Cauldron.

It was saddening that clothes he had bought when he was thirteen still fit at fifteen.

Harry frowned as he examined his skinny figure. Even Mrs. Weasley’s attempts at fattening him up over the last three weeks did nothing to change the fact that he still could count every single one of his ribs. Moreover, it seemed he hadn’t grown even one inch since he had bought those clothes. He was still the height of a thirteen-year-old - a very small thirteen-year-old.

Harry sighed as he slipped on two tees and some old jeans from Dudley, which were without question big enough to fit over the sweatpants. A hoodie completed his outfit.

Then Harry started to pack his trunk. He knew, after four years of sharing a dorm with him that Ron could sleep through a thunderstorm, so he didn’t even try to be quiet.

At around 7 am, Mrs. Weasley knocked at the door.

“Wake up, boys. Breakfast is ready, and I really hope you finished your packing.”

Ron groaned and slowly opened his eyes, blinking at Harry. “Morning… how long have you up?” Yawning, he got out of bed and stretched.

Harry only shrugged. “A while,” he answered evasively. He did not want to talk about his sleeping habits, or lack thereof. “Come on. Breakfast.”

With the promise of food Ron was completely awake immediately and ran out of the room. Harry shook his head fondly. As irritated he had been with his friends this summer, he really hoped some things would never change.

 

* * *

 

The train ride to Hogwarts was uneventful. Ron and Hermione were in the prefect compartment most of the time, so Harry shared a compartment with Ginny, Neville and a classmate of Ginny from Ravenclaw, Luna Lovegood. Luna was a peculiar girl with long blond hair and big protuberant eyes that gave her a permanently surprised look, and she was interesting and funny. Harry rather liked her.

Malfoy and his cronies visited for their traditional attempt to stir up trouble, but he somehow seemed subdued, not quite his usual arrogant self. Harry thought it could have something to do with, Malfoy knowing, without a doubt, that Voldemort was back. His father had been at the graveyard, after all. Perhaps even a stuck-up pure-blood wasn’t happy with having a mad, homicidal, megalomaniac back from the dead.

All thoughts of Malfoy vanished as the train approached Hogwarts, the trepidation over his upcoming sorting drowning all thoughts of his blond classmate.

He was startled to see it was Professor Grubbly-Plank instead of Hagrid who gathered the first years. Where was Hagrid? Did something happen?

He followed his friends to the carriages but stopped in shock. The normally horseless carriages were not horseless anymore. They were drawn by some sort of winged horses.

The horses were completely skeletal, their black coats clinging to their ribs, and there was something reptilian about them. They had vast, black leathery wings and a dragon-like head with white, pupilless eyes. Somehow, their presence felt like a gloomy omen, especially when he realized that neither Ron nor Hermione could see them.

Luna’s cheery acknowledgment of their existence and her assurance that he was as sane as she was did not help in banishing the eerie feeling.

 

* * *

 

The moment Harry stepped into the entrance hall of Hogwarts, Professor McGonagall rushed him away from the others and into the antechamber of the Great Hall where the Triwizard champions had gathered the previous year.

Professor Dumbledore and the other three Head of Houses were already present. The Headmaster had his grandfatherly smile on his face but still did not look Harry in the eyes. Professor Flitwick and Professor Sprout gave him light smiles, but Professor Snape only sneered.

Harry wished they weren’t present for this. He felt exposed.

Something must have shown on his face because Professor McGonagall looked at him and placated him with an explanation. “The sorting is only valid if the Headmaster and all four of the Heads of Houses are present,” she said. “This will be over shortly. Please sit down, Mr Potter.” She gestured to the three-legged stool with the familiar battered, old hat with its patches already in hand.

Harry chewed on his lower lip in worry but sat down. Professor McGonagall placed the hat on his head. It was still too big and slipped down over his eyes.

“ _Mmh… ah, Mr Potter! A pleasure to see your mind again,”_ the small voice in his head said. “ _A real pleasure. Seldom do I have the chance to have more than one look into such an interesting mind. Still plenty of courage, but how you apply that courage has somewhat changed. I am not sure if you are still suited to Gryffindor. But... oh - that thirst to prove yourself… to show the world that you are more than just your title… I know exactly where I will put you this time.”_

Dread filled Harry. “ _Please - Gryffindor. Not Slytherin.”_

_“Oh no, Mr. Potter. Gryffindor is not the right place for you anymore - not at all. You would have fared well in Slytherin from the beginning, if you only would have allowed me to do my job. This time I will put you into your real house, where you belonged in your first year. ”_

_“But Slytherin isn’t the right house,” Harry insisted. “They hate me, and a lot of them are from Death Eater families. I would not survive a week there. Do you want me to die?”_

_“Don’t be afraid. I am linked to the magic of Hogwarts and I know the mindsets of all the students and staff in this school. Slytherin will do you good and you will do good for Slytherin. Slytherin is your true house, and you need the Slytherin students as much as they need you. Slytherins protect their own.”_

“ _But…_ ”

_“No, I will not yield. This time there will be no negotiations. I’m sure…_ SLYTHERIN! _”_

The last part the hat announced aloud. Harry heard someone gasp, but as the hat was still covering his eyes, he couldn’t see who it was. Harry couldn’t move. He was frozen and was still processing exactly what had happened.

His worst nightmare since he first learned of his re-sorting had become reality.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **AN:** Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think.
> 
> Many thanks to vichan and Cameron Lindsey for helping to improve my grammar and spelling.
> 
> First published: 21st of August 2018  
> Last edited: 29th of January 2019


	2. The Welcoming Feast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** Nothing in the Harry Potter universe is mine. I simply love to play with it.
> 
> **AN:** Ah a triple update, one chapter for all three stories, who would have thought… but I don’t think it will be like this again. 
> 
> Thanks to all who bookmarked, subscribed and commented. And kudos to everyone who gave kudos.
> 
> **This is now beta’ed by the brilliant vichan and Cameron Lindsey, many many thanks and hugs to them.**
> 
> Parts of Dumbledore’s and Umbridge’s welcoming speech are taken from OotP. 
> 
> Have fun reading.
> 
> **On with the story.**

 

Shaken, Harry slowly removed the hat from his head and got to his feet. His breath was rapid and shallow, and he desperately tried to control his emotions; there was far too much desperation, fear, and fury wracking his body. It wouldn’t help the situation to break down

Not even facing Voldemort in the graveyard had been this frightening, but there he’d barely had time to think. But with this too many thoughts swirled around in his mind. He slowed his breath and managed to shove the dread and anxiety down. The ever-present anger was a constant pulse in the back of his mind.

He glanced at the professors through his fringe and tried to calm himself further.

Professor McGonagall, the stern teacher who always seemed as if nothing could shake her, appeared stunned. The twinkling in the Headmaster’s eyes had dimmed, an uncharacteristic expression of surprise drawn across his face. Professors Flitwick and Sprout both had equally perplexed expressions. Professor Snape had a dark look on his face, as if Harry had personally offended him by being sorted into his house.

Harry gulped nervously and looked down, and he then realised that his robes had been graced with the Slytherin house crest and his tie had changed to the Slytherin house colours of green and silver.

After several seconds of somewhat awkward silence, the Headmaster finally cleared his throat.

“This is a rather unexpected outcome. Hat,” he addressed the sorting hat. “Would you mind explaining for us?”

“What is there to explain?” the hat answered. “I have sorted students for generations and I’ve never sorted wrong. Normally, I don’t let a student argue with me on where to put him. But Mr. Potter did it in his first year - successfully, as I must add. He could have belonged in every house, as he shows traits from all of them.” The hat seemed to bristle a bit before it continued. “Originally, I wanted to put him in Slytherin five years ago. I never should have let him argue with me in the first place. He would have made a good snake then and he will make a good snake now. His true house is Slytherin. He belongs there.” With that, the hat fell silent.

Harry’s eyes were still glued to the floor, his thoughts running wild as he considered what he should do. He wanted to survive his first night, and every night thereafter, in his new house. Determination suddenly filled him. He would observe and adjust. Besides, he only had to survive three years.

Rancour squeezed his stomach at that thought. It was just like the Dursleys, where he had counted the years until he was of age to leave the house for good. 

Magic had freed him, it had saved him. Magic brought him to Hogwarts, where he finally had found a home. That home had been Gryffindor tower, with its cosy common room filled with stuffed, squashy armchairs, and the dorm with the comfortable four-poster beds.

And that had also been taken from him. It wasn’t like it was anything new. Everything that was good in his life had been taken away eventually.

Resentment filled him, sharp and bitter. Why always him?

How would the rest of the school react to his sorting? He feared that it would be second year all over again, when everyone thought he’d been the next dark lord.

Conviction filled him again; he was determined to make it through all three years in Slytherin.

He only had to tread carefully so as to not antagonize his new house. It would certainly make his life easier with the snakes, but if he maintained enough of his Gryffindor persona and showed that to the rest of the school, he might not necessarily be labelled an evil wizard again. It would be tricky to balance, but Harry was fairly certain he could do it.

He certainly didn’t want to lose the few people who were perhaps willing to stand beside him despite the crap the _Prophet_ was writing.

 “But will it be safe for Mr. Potter?” Professor McGonagall voiced her concern.

“What _exactly_ do you want to imply, Minerva?” Snape sounded irritated. Granted, Snape normally sounded irritated.

“Well, the history between Mr. Potter and your house, Severus, is rather… rough,” McGonagall said. ”And we should not forget that _he_ is back, and quite a few of his followers have children in your house.”

“Do not worry, Minerva,” Snape replied with a hint of a sneer. “Mr. Potter will be nothing but safe in Slytherin. We protect our own. And simply because some parents are followers doesn’t mean their children are.”

Harry frowned. He always had the impression that children like Malfoy would love to follow in their parents’ footsteps.

“Now that this is settled, I think we should take our seats in the Great Hall. The first years will arrive in a few minutes.” Professor Dumbledore sounded strangely cheerful. “I will have to make a short announcement of your sorting Harry.”

“Come along, then, Mr. Potter. I will guide you to your house table and warn your new housemates.” Snape’s voice was like ice. Harry nodded and followed his new Head of House, his body moving automatically. He was suddenly struck with the dreadful thought that Snape had now direct power over him.

Professor McGonagall stopped him at the door to the great hall.

“Mr. Potter, it has been a great pleasure to have you in my house, even with all the mischief and trouble you got yourself into,” she said with a smile. “My door is still open for you. I wish you all the best in your new house. Slytherin is lucky to have you.” Her smile turned reassuring.

Harry managed a small smile back and with a quiet, “Thank you, Professor,” he followed Snape - ‘ _Professor_ Snape,’ he thought, sounding oddly like Hermione - into the Great Hall and towards the Slytherin table.

He felt the burning gazes from Hermione and Ron at his back, but he couldn’t manage to look over at them. With how deeply Ron hated everything having to do with Slytherin, he knew that his friend would feel betrayed. Would Ron hate him now too?

Harry only hoped their friendship would somehow survive. Hermione would almost certainly be more rational; he knew she would understand that the hat hadn’t given him a choice.

To Harry’s relief, nobody aside from Harry’s friends seemed to have noticed that he had come into the Great Hall behind the Professor.

As Professor Snape approached the Slytherin table it fell silent, his snakes automatically reacting to the presence of their Head of House. With a quick wave of his wand he first prevented the rest of the hall from listening in, and then amplified his voice, making it audible to all of Slytherin.

Harry stayed behind him, hiding. He felt like he was attending his own execution.

“Good evening, Slytherins. I have an announcement to make.” All the students at the table looked at him attentively.

“Due to some rather unpredictable circumstances, you will have a new housemate beside the usual first years,” Professor Snape said. “Mr. Potter here had to be sorted again and the Sorting Hat was _insistent_ on placing him in Slytherin. It seems Mr. Potter _successfully_ convinced the Sorting Hat in his first year to put him in a different house. He apparently _belonged_ here from the beginning.” He paused, fixing the students with a significant glare.

Harry didn’t miss how he emphasised certain words, nor did he miss the meaning behind those emphases. The faces of his new housemates didn’t give a hit as to what they were thinking; it appeared to be blank expressions and carefully neutral masks all up and down the table. Harry remained quiet, knowing that the smartest thing he could do was to observe.

“As the rivalry between his former house and our own is widely known, I want to remind you of our house rules. His former house is immaterial. He is now a _Slytherin,_ one of our own _._ Therefore, you will treat him as one” Harry could have sworn that Snape’s gaze lingered on Malfoy for a moment longer than the others. “I will see you all later in the common room. Mr. Potter, sit down.”

Snape’s hand landed on Harry’s shoulder and he steered him towards the other fifth year Slytherins, where a chair had been emptied for him. Harry gritted his teeth at being manhandled. He could barely suppress a flinch as Snape loomed over him after he took his seat.

“Mr. Potter, I normally conduct individual interviews with my new first years in the first week of the school year, as well as with any upper years that have a need to talk,” Snape said. “As you are also a new student, I will see you in my office tomorrow after breakfast at 9 o’clock sharp.”

The black eyes of his Professor fixated on him.

Harry narrowed his eyes when he met the stare, quelling the urge to protest. What could he and Snape have to talk about?

Remembering where he was and who watched, he nodded.

“Yes, sir.” He would handle Snape how he handled Uncle Vernon. Addressing Vernon politely hadn’t always helped but addressing him incorrectly had always resulted in a slap.

Something akin to surprise flickered in Snape’s eyes at his polite answer.

“Good.” Snape let his gaze wander over the Slytherin table. “Have a nice welcoming feast.”

A murmured, “Thank you, Professor,” came from the Slytherins as Snape walked away and took his seat at the head table.

Steeling himself inwardly Harry looked around, identifying who sat around him. Next to him was a boy that Harry remembered from Potions class - Zabini, he thought his name was.  Their eyes met and the boy sent him a smirk.

“Who would’ve thought that the golden boy of Gryffindor would have hidden scales underneath his fur?” Zabini said, clearly amused.

“Blaise, don’t be daft. Potter is not a snake,” a familiar voice sneered. “He doesn’t have the brain cells to be one.”

Harry glared in the direction of the speaker, and green eyes met grey. Harry’s resolve to lean back and observe quickly crumbled. He had never been very good at ignoring a challenge, especially from Malfoy, and he found he was actually a bit happy to vent at least some of his frustration and anger.

He could feel the stares from the other Slytherins around him.

Harry once watched a documentary where a pack of wolves had encircled a deer, their intense gazes fixed on the prey. The Slytherins’ stares felt just like those wolves, as if they wanted to eat him alive. Harry decided he would not be the prey, and so he wouldn’t show any weakness.

If he wanted to have a relatively quiet time in Slytherin, he had to make it clear that he would not lie down and take it.

“I’ll have you know, Malfoy, that the hat was pretty adamant in our first year _and_ this year that I had to go to Slytherin. Make of that what you will, but perhaps you lack the _brain cells_ to comprehend what that means,” he mocked. “Not that I expect very much from a person who thought it was a _cunning_ plan to dress up as a Dementor to sabotage the seeker of the other team.”

Malfoy’s eyes blazed in anger, but the boy sitting on Harry’s other side - Nott or something - sent Malfoy a glare while Blaise let out a slight chuckle.

“Draco, keep your temper. He’s got you there.” Now Malfoy glared, affronted, at Zabini.

“He’s right, Draco. Don’t behave like a Gryffindor.” Harry fixed a scowl on the boy beside him, offended on behalf of his old house. Nott only smirked at him and turned back to Malfoy. “If the hat decided he belongs in Slytherin, there has to be more to him than the Gryffindor exterior we’ve witnessed so far.”

Every Slytherin within earshot of the conversation turned to Harry, who shrugged and offered an evasive reply. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I am who I’ve always been.”

Oh, joy, now they looked intrigued. Even Malfoy appeared more interested than annoyed, and he tapped his chin thoughtfully and then grinned at him. An actual grin, not a smirk or a sneer. Harry nearly fell out of his chair.

“A very Slytherin answer. Maybe there’s hope for you, after all.”

Then the doors opened, and their attention was caught by the first years walking into the Great Hall.

 

* * *

 

Harry didn’t remember much of the sorting hat’s song or the sorting. He could still feel the occasional stare from the Slytherins around him as they observed him. He hated being stared at. At Privet Drive it never meant anything good; it was always best to be overlooked.

He sat stiffly at the Slytherin table, staring sightlessly, and thought with trepidation of the upcoming evening and next few days. There was the talk with Professor Snape in the morning, and before that the almost certain confrontation in the Slytherin common room and dorm. Unease squeezed his stomach at the possibilities of what could happen.

After the last first year was sorted into Ravenclaw, Dumbledore stood up. Harry listened half-heartedly.

“The very best of evenings to you! To our new students, welcome. And to our old students, welcome back! Another year full of magical education awaits you. I hope your heads are empty and ready to be filled with new knowledge...” Harry stopped listening after he realized it was a variation of the same speech Dumbledore held at every welcoming feast.

When the students around him gave a polite clap, Harry knew the new professors must have been introduced, and he mirrored the quiet applause automatically.

“Tryouts for the Quidditch teams will take place - ”

Harry looked to the Head table when Dumbledore suddenly stopped mid-sentence.

“ _Hem, hem_.”

Dumbledore stood aside to give the interrupter the stage, and Harry nearly fell off of his chair when he recognized her face. He hadn’t paid attention when the new professors were introduced, but he didn’t need an introduction for that woman. He immediately recognized the horrid shade of pink and the toad-like face.

‘What is the witch from the Ministry doing here?’ Harry tapped his chin as he tried to remember ‘Madame Andrich? No, that isn’t… something with U…’ Then it struck him _Umbridge_.

He focused his attention on her. When she opened her mouth and spoke in her high, girlish voice, Harry couldn’t prevent his disgusted shudder. At his hearing he had gotten an uneasy feeling from her, and that feeling intensified as he listened to her speech.

“Thank you, Headmaster, for those kind words of welcome.” She cleared her throat again. “Hem, hem. Well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say! And to see such happy little faces looking back at me! I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all, and I’m sure we’ll all be good friends.” She smiled and looked around the Great Hall. Harry was sure that nobody was smiling at her, as he glanced around the Slytherin table he saw disgust and horror carefully disguised behind blank masks.

When exactly had he started to read the Slytherins and see behind the mask?

Had he already been changed by being a Slytherin? Or had he simply never had the opportunity to study the Slytherin students’ masks before?

_“Hem, hem_. The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance…” Harry continued to listen to her babbling about changes, preservation, progress, tradition and innovation - it was utterly boring.

Harry didn’t have to listen to every word to understand the gist of her speech and her presence at Hogwarts; it wasn’t hard to figure out. The Ministry intended to meddle in Hogwarts.

Only a few people still listened to her. Malfoy probed a fly on the table with his wand, and Harry could hear a quiet, “ _Petrificus Totalus,”_ as Malfoy paralysed the fly again and again. On either side of him, Crabbe and Goyle watched and snickered

Hesitant applause rose, signalling the end of Umbridge’s speech. Harry listened to Dumbledore announce when Quidditch tryouts would take place and felt a pang of sadness at the thought of not being able to play.

“And now, I have one last announcement to make,” Dumbledore said, and Harry stiffened in anticipation. “Because of some unpredictable incidents that occurred over the summer, one of our older students had to be sorted again. The Head of Houses and myself did so before the first years’ sorting. The sorting hat decided not to put him in his previous house again. Remember, that even if each house has unique and specific traits, human beings are seldom that simple. We are all composed of various characteristics, and we become who we are based on our experiences. Each day we experience something new, which changes our outlook of the world and shapes our personality.”

Dumbledore looked around in the Great Hall, eyes briefly flickering to Harry at the Slytherin table.

“I am sure, that all of you have attributes from more than one house and act on said attributes. “Therefore, I hope you will not judge your schoolmate because the hat has decided that the traits of his new house are more prominent compared to his former house; this does not mean he’s lost the attributes of his old house.” Harry braced himself.

“I hope that Mr. Harry Potter is an asset to his new house and that Slytherin house welcomes their new snake. And now, tuck in!” Dumbledore finished his speech and the food appeared.

Whispers rose in the hall and Harry heard people shifting in their seats as hundreds of heads turned to look at him.

He firmly fixed his stare on the food and ignored all the eyes and whispers. He filled his goblet with water, knowing that he appeared far calmer than he appeared.

The Slytherins were the only ones who didn’t stare at him and started filling their plates instead, behaving as if having a former Gryffindor re-sorted into their house was an everyday occurrence. Harry couldn’t help but feel thankful for that.

Harry glanced around and waited until everyone around him started eating before he reached for some mashed potatoes, beans, and chicken. He ate slowly, chewing every bite carefully, and made no attempt to be a part of the conversation around him.  He instead used the opportunity to observe the Slytherins around him.

It was quieter compared to the Gryffindor table, but they definitely still behaved like normal teenagers. They talked about their holidays, homework, and the latest gossip. They teased one another, and laughter could be heard, but the Slytherins upheld a calm demeanour through it all. 

The Gryffindor table had always been loud and boisterous, and Harry was almost startled to realise that he actually liked the quieter atmosphere of the Slytherin table, even if he couldn’t completely relax.

He was curious how they would behave in the private environment of their common room and dorms.

Harry finished his rather small amount of food compared to what the boys around him ate, although he didn’t bother to look at Crabbe and Goyle; they were worse than Ron, but at least they had better manners and chewed with their mouths closed. He supposed it could be the pure-blood manners. But even compared to the others that weren’t Crabbe and Goyle, his dinner was minuscule. He knew his stomach was awfully small, a side-effect of his childhood. Even five years of Hogwarts’ feasts couldn’t reverse that, especially with the summers in between.

He put his cutlery aside and some of his housemates shifted their attention back to him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Malfoy frown at him, and his eyes flickered to his plate. Harry cursed internally as it sunk in that the Slytherins seemed far more observant than the Gryffindors.

The boy beside Harry gave him a smile. “Blaise Zabini. Welcome to Slytherin house. I don’t think you know all of us, even if we do have most classes together,” Zabini said. “Beside you is Theodore Nott. On the other side of Theo is Millicent Bulstrode. Draco, Vince, and Greg, you already know, as well as Pansy. Next to her is Tracey Davis, and then Daphne Greengrass.” Zabini gestured to the boys and girls around them.

Harry nodded politely to everyone and got amiable greetings in return, even from Malfoy and his goons.

“So…” Blaise said with barely concealed curiosity. “Exactly what happened that resulted in you needing to be sorted again? I’ve read about occurrences like this, but they never elaborated on why a re-sorting would be needed.”

Harry looked around and saw carefully masked interest in the boys and girls listening in. He sighed inwardly as he mulled over what he should reveal and if he even should explain anything. He realized that there were probably a multitude of rumors already spreading through the castle, and he decided that the basic truth was the best route.

“I got an official warning for underage magic this summer. Since it was my second one, I had to attend a disciplinary hearing,” Harry said. “Someone in the Ministry falsely registered what should have been the charge as ‘convicted.’ Therefore, the student book of Hogwarts automatically shifted my name to ‘expelled’ and later, as I was found ‘not guilty,’ my name was shifted back to the Hogwarts student list. But the expulsion couldn’t just be reversed, so I wasn’t registered as a Gryffindor and had to be sorted again.”

He took a gulp of his water as he tried to gauge the students around him.

“And why did you get an official warning? Accidental magic at your age?” Pansy Parkinson snickered.

Harry didn’t rise to the attempted insult. He simply shook his head and gave her a saccharine smile, which seemed to catch her and most of the people around him off guard.

“No, some Dementors attacked my muggle cousin and me and as nobody else was there to help, I cast a Patronus.” He gave a slight shrug.

The Slytherins’ eyes widened, which was the only sign of their surprise.

“Are telling us you can cast a Patronus strong enough to not only hold Dementors at bay, but drive them away?” Zabini enquired in disbelief as dessert appeared on the table.

Harry nodded nonchalantly; it simply wasn’t that big of a deal for him. He helped himself to some fruit, knowing full-well that ice cream, cake, and even his beloved treacle tart were still too heavy for his stomach.

“Yes. I learned the spell in third year after I was attacked by the Dementors during the Quidditch game.”

Malfoy gave him a mocking look and sneered.

“Ah, yes… I remember you were affected quite badly,” Malfoy said. “You were easily frightened. Delicate, aren’t you?”

Harry’s eyes narrowed and fixated on Malfoy, his glare cold and hard. That simmering pool of anger in the back of his mind rose again.

“I’d like to see how you handle hearing your father being killed while your mother pleads for your life,” Harry said in a low, somewhat dangerous voice, trying to rein in his temper. “Then hear her being killed while her murderer just laughs. Every time one of those creatures are near, that’s what you would hear. I wonder how _you_ would react to that.”

The masks of the Slytherins around him suddenly broke, shock and unease and perhaps even embarrassment visible in their faces.

Smugly satisfied that he managed to break their countenance, Harry decided that he’d had enough socializing with his new housemates for the time-being.

He gave Malfoy one last withering stare, got up from the table and approached the Gryffindor table in search of Ron and Hermione. He tried to ignore the sneers and angry scowls directed towards him from his former housemates, pushing the feeling of betrayal down as he saw more than one hateful glower thrown at him.

Suddenly, he had an armful of his best friend, bushy hair in his face and strong arms squeezing him almost painfully.

“Hermione…”

She hugged him even tighter for moment before stepping back.

“Oh, Harry, why is everything always happening to you?” She looked at him in distress, inspecting him up and down as if she was making sure the Slytherins hadn’t done something to him during the feast.

“Hermione -” Harry started again, but Hermione interrupted him.

“This is the reason why you were so moody yesterday, wasn’t it?” she asked, more of a statement than a question. “I understand. But acquiring the skill to survive You-Know-Who and then being cunning enough to escape and warn the world of his resurrection - that doesn’t make you a different person.”

Harry absently wondered if she was trying to convince him or herself, but Hermione barrelled on.

“Yes, they might be Slytherin traits, but you are also brave like a Gryffindor. Oh, Harry... the hat didn’t give you a choice, did it?”

“No…”

“Maybe it will do you good to be in Slytherin. You really do need to learn some self-preservation,” she said. “And perhaps you really belong in Slytherin, but you are still my best friend.” Her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, I’m going to miss you up in Gryffindor tower, though.”

Harry gulped but found that he couldn’t speak, so he only hugged Hermione briefly to show her how much her words meant to him. He looked over her shoulder to search for Ron, but his redheaded friend was nowhere to be seen.

He looked at Hermione in question, and she shook her head.

“It was a shock for him,” she explained. “You know what he thinks about Slytherins. Give him time and let him sleep it over. I’m sure it’ll be fine, and we’ll talk more tomorrow.” She hugged him again and then left, gathering the first years around her to lead them to the dormitory. Harry watched her leave and tried to suppress the bitter feeling of betrayal which had popped up in Ron’s absence.

He felt hundred of stares at his back and out of the corner of his eye he saw Dean whispering something to Seamus, while the Irish boy shot a hateful look at Harry.

“Are you coming?”

Zabini materialised beside him, crooking his head like a curious bird. Harry nodded and followed him with one last glance at his old housemates. As he caught the grins from Fred and George he nearly stumbled. Both had sparkling, mischievous eyes and as they saw him looking, they gave him the thumbs up.

He had the suspicious feeling that he would be abducted the next days by the twin menaces, who would almost certainly use him to get into the Slytherin common room or something.

Feeling lighter, Harry followed Zabini to the dungeons. At least it seemed that not all of his old house hated him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **AN:** Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think.
> 
> Many thanks to vichan and Cameron Lindsey for helping to improve my spelling and grammar.
> 
> First published: 12th of September 2018  
> Last edited: 1st of February 2019


	3. Slytherin House

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** Nothing in the Harry Potter universe is mine. I simply love to play with it.
> 
> **AN:** Thanks to everyone who subscribed, bookmarked, commented and for all the kudos.  
>  I was overwhelmed by the positive comments for the first two chapters, so I was really in the mood for this fic. But before I wrote new chapters I finished planning the mainplot.  
> Now that this is done, here is the next chapter for you.
> 
> **This chapter is beta’ed by the wonderful vichan and Cameron Lindsey. Thanks to you two, you are the best!**
> 
> Parts of Snape’s welcoming speech are from pottermore. 
> 
> Have fun reading.
> 
> **On with the story.**

 

Harry tried to remember the way to the Slytherin common room from when he had followed Malfoy during their second year, but the dungeon corridors all looked the same to him. He sighed. He would have to ensure that he had the Marauders’ map with him at all times or he was sure to get lost.

They stopped in front of a stone wall.

“Bezoar.” Zabini spoke, and the stone wall parted to reveal a long underground room.

As they stepped inside, Harry saw that the whole Slytherin house was present in the common room. Heads moved and whispers broke out when they realized who had followed Zabini into the room.

To distract himself from some of the stares, he looked around. When he had infiltrated it with Ron, he had not dared to study it with open curiosity.

Previously, he’d gotten the impression of a dark room with a grand but cold atmosphere. It seemed he would certainly have to reconsider his previous opinion.

It was a long, dungeon-like room, and parts of it extended underneath the Black Lake. The windows looked out into the underwater world of the lake, and during the day it would give the light in the room a green tinge. As it was night-time, the waters were currently dark and black.

Fire crackled in the two big fireplaces dominating the left and right walls of the room, providing warmth and light. Green lamps hung from the ceiling and several black and green leather settees and dark green armchairs were arranged in groups around the room. Tables of various sizes with carved chairs were set up in a few different places, and several dark wood cupboards, filled with books, games, and other objects, were scattered in most of the corners.

Located in the dungeons, it could have been a cold, dark room with a creepy atmosphere, but instead, due to the darker, warmer colours, it emanated calm and cosiness, something Harry never would have associated with the dungeons.

He moved around most of his new housemates and stood in front of one of the large windows, observing the dark waters. In the light of the day he was sure he would be able to see fish and creatures, perhaps even the giant squid swooshing by.

The whispering finally settled down behind him.

His housemates seemed to be waiting for something and his suspicion was confirmed when the entrance opened and Professor Snape stepped into the common room, piercing gaze sweeping over them. His eyes briefly stopped on Harry standing at the back of the crowd, and then he addressed the whole room.

“Welcome back, my snakes. To our new first years: welcome to Slytherin. I am Professor Severus Snape, your Head of House.”

He looked at the small eleven-year-olds standing in front of him and Harry was surprised to see something akin to a small, comforting smile on Professor Snape’s face.

“First, let me clarify a few things for you and dispel some of the more… _unfortunate_ myths. Slytherin house is not the house of evil, nor is it the house for Dark Wizards. Yes, we have produced our fair share of Dark Wizards, but so did the other Houses; they just don’t care to admit it. And if you didn’t know, the greatest wizard of all time - Merlin, himself - was a Slytherin.”

Professor Snape paused, and Harry thought back to his first potions class. He had to admit that Snape knew how to deliver a speech. As always, he didn’t raise his voice but was nonetheless heard at the back of the room, and everyone’s attention was on him.

“Slytherin is the house of the ambitious, determined, cunning, and clever. We strive to better ourselves. We play to win and care about the pride, honour, and traditions of Slytherin. What Salazar sought in his students was the _seed of greatness_. Every single one of you has been chosen for this house because you have the potential to be great, in whatever way you choose to be.”

Professor Snape paused again to give the children time to comprehend what was implied.

“The most important point you should remember is that we Slytherins look after our own. The other houses and parts of the magical world look upon us with fear and distrust. Therefore, we must stand together.” Snape’s voice was firm. “Every dispute between you and a fellow snake stays inside our house. Outside, you must present a united front, especially in regards of the recent events in wizarding Great Britain. No snake is to walk alone in the halls. I don’t know if you read the Daily Prophet and if you believe it but let me make something clear so that there are no misunderstandings.” He raked his gazed across the room to make sure that everyone was paying attention.

He did not need to; everyone in the room was hanging onto his every word.

“The one widely known as ‘You-Know-Who’ is back. No matter what the newspapers are saying this is the undeniable truth.”

Shocked gasps rippled through the common room. Harry wasn’t sure if this was because they believed the Daily Prophet or were simply stunned that Professor Snape would confirm it so openly.

“This will make things for you in Hogwarts harder, especially when the public finally accepts the truth. You will be associated with the Death Eaters, solely based on the fact that you are Slytherins. It may be that your parents, uncles, aunts, cousins, or siblings are following the beliefs of the Dark Lord…”

A surprised wave of murmurs wandered through the younger students standing at the front, especially from the first years. Professor Snape narrowed his eyes.

“Yes, I do call him the ‘Dark Lord.’ Calling him ‘You-Know-Who’ is a foolishness I don’t wish to take part in. Calling him by his chosen name is another foolishness altogether, as he placed a taboo curse on his name in the last war. Whatever your thoughts of him might be, he is an _immensely_ powerful wizard and is due a certain level of respect.” He paused, allowing that to sink in, before continuing. “This is a lesson you should always remember: give your friends, allies, and especially your enemies the respect they deserve based on their abilities, even if you don’t respect them from a… _moral_ standpoint.”

Harry had to give Professor Snape credits. He was sure the professor knew there were children of Death Eaters in his house; perhaps some of them would even become Death Eaters shortly before or after graduation. Impressively, he managed to appease them all without showing his own affiliation.

But why? Everything Harry had learned about Slytherins over the years and all of his own experiences with them had led him to the impression that they were all prejudiced purebloods who would love nothing more than to follow Voldemort.

But then, Harry had to admit that he didn’t really know all that much about these students and their families. The only ones he really interacted with were Malfoy and his goons, as well as the Quidditch team. He actually didn’t know anything about these people.

How they were raised. What they really thought about half-bloods and Muggle-borns. Why their families followed Voldemort. Were all of the Slytherin families in league with Voldemort?

Harry realized he had been judging them all based on the actions of a few, an incredibly easy trap to fall into. Just as he had accused them of prejudice against half-bloods, Muggle-borns, and muggles, he himself held a prejudice against these students simply because of being in Slytherin house.

The house he was now a part of.

Perhaps he needed to be more open-minded. He should probably observe and get to know his housemates before he judged them.

After all, they couldn’t all be like Malfoy. If he found at least one decent person, someone he could talk to, perhaps his time in Slytherin wouldn’t be complete torture.

And even if they all were like him, Harry knew he could survive it. He would survive just like he had survived the Dursleys. He only needed to know how to behave in order to not draw attention, and which mask he needed to live in Slytherin house.

Harry clenched his fist in determination and shifted his attention back to Snape.

“Here in this house we have children from families of all walks: light, neutral and dark. These political associations mean nothing while you are here. At Hogwarts, you are all _Slytherin,”_ Snape said, his voice stern.

“You are family to one another. Even if you will stand on separate sides later, in Slytherin, you always will have a _family_ **.** All other affiliations are void during your stay here. If we don’t look after each other, no one else will. We are loyal to each other. I am not saying that you should denounce your family, but I do not allow disputes in my house based on your family’s associations.”

Harry sneered lightly at that. It all sounded well and good; if it was true, he didn’t need to be concerned about the children of Death Eaters. But he also knew that being family didn’t necessarily mean that someone cared or treated you right - not even if you were related by blood.

“Your family status and family affiliation are secondary here; your blood status is of no significance at all. Show us what _you_ can do.” Professor Snape was intense in his speech and his gaze, eyes wandering over them, as he ensured every word sank in. Then he assumed a lighter tone.

“Our house colours are green and silver, and our house emblem is the serpent. Serpents are some of nature’s most resourceful creatures, and as they grow older, they shed their skin and start anew. Keep this firmly in mind and you will be able to handle everything life throws at you.”

Professor Snape flicked his wand and a parchment appeared on the announcement board left of the entrance door.

“Now, I have some rules for you to follow. Firstly, for our new students, I will have an individual interview with every one of you. These are to evaluate your education so far, what you need to settle in, and individual tutoring if needed. We will also go through your medical record to address any problems which may occur. The schedule for the annual health check for everyone is posted on the notice board.”

Harry felt sick to his stomach; he never had an actual health check. They technically had them at the beginning of the year in Gryffindor, as well, but nobody made sure that they actually went. Harry always managed to find a way to skip it.

And as he was usually in the hospital wing more than once in a typical school year, nobody had ever questioned it. Even Hermione simply assumed Madam Pomfrey checked him over when he was in her care.

“Aside from this, you can always come to me - not only in emergencies, but simply to talk or if you need help,” Snape said. Harry had never heard Snape’s voice sound so caring. “I am your Head of House, and this means while at school I am responsible for you and act _in loco parentis._ I take this responsibility seriously. But I encourage you to go to the prefects with smaller problems.”

Harry felt shocked. Professor McGonagall had never given a welcome talk to her Gryffindors, nor had she emphasized that she was responsible for them beside being their teacher and disciplinarian. While it was true that they knew they could go to her if they had problems, she never had encouraged them openly like Professor Snape.

And the Gryffindors normally handled everything themselves, with the younger years seeking help from the older ones.

“You will see that I will not deduct House points from my own house if you are breaking the rules.” Harry quirked his lips at that, wondering if Snape would miss using every opportunity to take points away from him. “This does not mean that you will not be punished. I will personally decide and oversee your punishment. If you are the reason one of the other teachers has taken points, I will evaluate the offense and give additional punishment if necessary.” Here Professor Snape smirked at them, and Harry saw some of the older students shudder.

He decided he didn’t really want to know what intra-house punishment Professor Snape tended to come up with.

“Remember that you are Slytherins; behave as such and always present an impeccable image.” He paused again, driving his point home. “The house rules are as followed. I highly recommend remembering and abiding to them, as I will be... _displeased_ if you not behave accordingly.”

His eyes bored into Harry, and then he addressed the house as a whole again.

“ _First_ your house is your family. Family stands together _._

_“Second_ , once you’ve become a snake, you’re one of ours.

_“Third_ , Slytherins look after our own.

_“Fourth_ , all disputes stay within the house.

_“Fifth_ , you determine your own value. It is not important who your parents are or what blood you have. Treat your housemates accordingly.

_“Sixth_ , the time between dinner and curfew is to spend inside your house.

_“Seventh_ , no one is allowed to skip house meetings.

_“Eighth_ , the annual health checks at the beginning of the year are mandatory.”

Snape paused after each rule. He ensured he caught the eyes of his Slytherins, especially from the newest students.

Harry looked back at his teacher and Head of House with wide eyes. Slytherin was more different then he had imagined.

“All rules, bedtimes, my office hours, and other announcement can be found on the notice board. I will regularly and personally check your adherence to the assigned bedtime. Dormitories for the boys are through the left door, and the ones for the girls through the right.”

Harry gaped. They had _bedtimes_? Professor McGonagall had never given them a bedtime. Yes, they had the general curfew, but not bedtimes. 

Then Snape smiled at the students in the room. It was only a short uplift of his lips, but it was nonetheless warm, and Harry was sure the world was coming to an end. Snape could actually smile at students!

“Welcome to the family. I hope you have an enjoyable evening, and I will see you all tomorrow.”

Professor Snape nodded at them and left the common room. The students split into smaller groups, settling into the seating areas around the room.

Harry shook his head as he tried to comprehend everything he had heard, but it was too much and too different from what he had expected. His mind was overwhelmed with all that had happened since the day before.

He slowly made his way over to the announcement board. On the list for individual interviews, he saw his name at the top, the next day at 9 AM. The bedtime for the fifth years was 11 PM. He sighed. Slytherin was so different.

Harry hadn’t even gone a full day as a snake, and he was already bone deep tired. One glance around the room showed him that nobody paid him any direct attention, so he decided to head to bed early. Just in case, he wanted to set up protection around his bed and his trunk. Who knew if the Slytherins would really abide by the rules set by their Head of House?

In Gryffindor, McGonagall certainly had not known everything that had occurred.

Walking through the door which led to the boys’ dormitories, he discovered a spiral staircase going down to his left and a hallway to his right. Several doors on the left side of the corridor seemed to lead into dormitories.

Harry stepped into the hallway and saw that the doors had plates with two names each on them. Harry recognized some of the names from the Quidditch team such as Cassius Warrington. It seemed these were the seventh years’ rooms.

He walked down the staircase and found a hallway with one door on each side. The door on the right was the sixth years’ dorm, and the one on the left for the fifth years. It seemed only the seventh years got separate rooms with two students each.

Harry opened the door to the fifth years room with hesitation, and he let out a relieved sigh when he saw it was empty. It was a long room stretching out right from the entrance door.

The wall directly left from the entrance door held a large fireplace that provided warmth, and the wall was also decorated with a medieval tapestry. To the right of the fireplace was another door. He assumed it led to the bathroom, as he had not seen another door in the hallway aside from the one to the sixth years’ dorm.

At the other end of the room, opposite the fireplace, a huge window looked out into the dark waters of the Black Lake. On the left and right walls were three beds each. The four-poster beds were the same ones as in the Gryffindor dorms, but with green silk hangings and bedspreads in green, embroidered with silver. To one side of each bed a wardrobe stood and to the other a desk with a chair and a shelf above it. All of the furniture was made of a dark wood.

Soft carpets in patterns of different kinds of green protected against the cold, stony dungeon floor. Silver lanterns hung from the ceiling and provided additional light to the fireplace.

Harry had to admit that the whole room was soothing with the warm and dark colours, and he was curious how the light would filter through the water of the Great Lake and transform the room in the mornings.

He found his trunk at the bottom of the bed nearest the window on the right wall. He touched one of the hidden runes with his wand and the trunk sprung open, answering his magical signature. He grinned, pleased with his handiwork, and decided to leave everything valuable in his trunk. He pulled one of the warding books and his notebook out. He found the combination of runes and spells he had researched the previous day in the Black Library.

A few minutes later, Harry lay on his back under his bed, carving runes into the dark wood and combining them with spells. Nobody would be able to open his curtains without his allowance. Harmful spells and curses would rebound from the shield he put around his bed, which stretched from one post to the other.

His wards could not block all curses, and if someone would cast a spell with more power than Harry had put into his rune shields, they would pass through, but the moment a curse encountered his wards he would know.

By the time he finished and crawled out from under his bed he wasn’t simply tired anymore; he was completely drained, physically and emotionally. The ever-present anger and confusion that had been overwhelming throughout the evening were subdued. He felt numb and exhausted, and so he decided to unpack the next day.

After a short trip to the bathroom, he slipped out of his robes and threw them over the chair beside his bed, along with his hoodie and jeans, leaving the sweatpants and two tees to sleep in.

He sighed, content, as he nestled under the blankets. The dungeons were cold, even with the constant fire in the fireplace, but the duvet was thick and fluffy and equipped with a warming charm. He decided to try and process everything tomorrow.

Putting his wand under his pillow he closed his eyes and quickly fell asleep, never hearing his dorm mates entering the room.

 

* * *

 

Harry woke with a scream still on his lips, panting heavily. For a short moment he didn’t know where he was and the fear and dread, which still lingered from his nightmare, turned into panic.

He blindly searched for his glasses and wand and he felt the panic increase when he didn’t find both immediately.

Then his fingers touched something cool and metallic and he grabbed his glasses, slipping them on to survey his surroundings.

He was in the Slytherin dorm. _His_ new dorm.

He could make out the other four-poster beds in the room, barely illuminated by the light of the fire, and heard the soft breath of sleep from the other boys.

Breathing deep to calm his racing heart, Harry turned around and pulled the blankets back on top of him. It seemed he had kicked them off during his nightmare.

He was safe. He was not back in the graveyard.

Again, he looked around in the dark and silent room. Thank Merlin he had put silencing charms around his bed. It would have been mortifying to wake up his new dorm mates with his screams.

What had his nightmare been about? He frowned as he tried to remember. He had been back in the graveyard. Voldemort had been there, looking snake-like and horrific, but there had been more than just that.

He was sure his Uncle Vernon had been there too, as well as Sirius and several other people he couldn’t remember.

There had been so much yelling and screaming.

Accusations had been thrown at him.

Someone had transformed into a snake… had it been Harry himself?

The more effort he put into remembering, the more the details vanished. Sighing, he flopped onto his back, staring up at the ceiling.

What time was it? Reaching for his wand under his pillow, he cast a quick _Tempus_. It was still early in the morning; theoretically too early to get up, but early enough that Harry knew he wouldn’t fall back to sleep.

He quietly slipped out of bed, retrieved fresh clothes from his trunk as silently as he could, and went to take a shower. At least he could be sure that nobody would walk in on him considering the time of day.

The lanterns in the bathroom lit up the moment he stepped inside. The previous evening, he had been too tired to look around.

The bathroom wasn’t terribly different from the Gryffindor one. Across from the door were the sinks, and the rest of the room stretched out left from the door. It was divided into two sections by a wall; to one side were the showers, on the other the toilets.

He removed his clothing, put them into the hamper, and stepped into one of the shower stalls. He closed his eyes and let the hot water soothe his body, easing the tension from the nightmare and the events of the previous day.

He needed a clear head for whatever Snape wanted to talk with him about. He also wanted to try and speak with Ron. Hopefully the redhead would understand that Harry didn’t have a choice.

Harry sighed as he grabbed the shampoo to wash his hair.

The day before he had managed to avoid any prolonged interaction with his new house, and he was sure today he wouldn’t be as lucky. Perhaps it hadn’t been a good idea to leave the common room so early. Due to his early exit, he had no idea how the atmosphere had been.

Would they be hostile? Neutral? Curious?

He needed to ascertain the situation within Slytherin house, to know who to watch, who to stay away from, and who was safe.

The anger and bitterness he felt after his sorting licked at his insides again.

Why always him?

Hogwarts should have been his refuge.

Why were strange things always happening to him? Why couldn’t his life be easy and normal for once?

He stifled a bitter laugh. He knew why… because he was _Harry Potter_.

Why couldn’t he be someone other than the Boy-Who-Lived? Why couldn’t he be normal?

He closed his eyes and clenched his fists as the rage turned his blood to fire. His breath was heavy, and he listened to the water pour down on him; it was the only noise beside his breathing in the quiet bathroom.

He tried to control his anger but standing alone in the bathroom where no one could see and judge him, it was all suddenly too much.

“FUCK!” Sharp pain radiated from his fist as he thrust it into the wall, and it cut through the haze of red-hot fury.

Shocked at what he’d just done, Harry opened his eyes and looked down at his right hand. It throbbed in pain; the skin on the knuckles had been broken and was bleeding. When he moved his fingers the pain increased.

He carefully palpated the injured hand with his left and when he realized nothing was broken a relieved breath escaped him. He had his fair share of experience with bruises and contusions, and he knew how to handle and hide them. A broken hand would certainly raise questions and result in an extra trip to the hospital wing.

Harry switched the shower off and dried himself carefully, avoiding the use of his right hand. When he was done, he stepped over to the sinks and filled one with cold water. Clumsily handling his wand with his left hand, he conjured a few ice cubes and added them to the water. He settled his hand into the ice bath with a hiss.

The throbbing decreased to a level he could handle. Harry carefully dried his hand, then finished washing up and got dressed, still favouring his left hand.

He stepped back into the still dark and silent dorm room and he retrieved a first-aid kit from his trunk. He carefully disinfected his knuckles, spread some healing ointment on them, but decided against a bandage. It would be far too noticeable, and Harry didn’t want to draw attention to his injury

He then took his satchel filled with his school books, parchment, ink and quill and went to the common room.

He found a comfortable armchair near one of the fireplaces and decided to write a letter to Sirius; he needed to tell him what had happened, after all.

He had no idea what his godfather would think about him being in Slytherin. Sirius tried to repel everything having to do with his family, and Slytherin house was a part of that.

Would he still want Harry? Would he still want to be his godfather? Or would he hate him now? Would he leave him, like nearly every adult who mattered to Harry did?

Harry set his jaw and started to write, trying to find the right words to make Sirius understand that hadn’t had a choice, and that he still was the same Harry as before. He would send the letter after breakfast.

Breakfast with his new house.

As that thought struck him, he set the quill aside and stared into the fire, dreading his first real day as a snake.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **AN:** Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think.
> 
> Many thanks to vichan and Cameron Lindsey for helping to improve my grammar and spelling.
> 
> First published: 30th of September 2018  
> Last edited: 2nd of February 2019


	4. The First Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** Nothing in the Harry Potter universe is mine. I simply love to play with it.
> 
> **AN:** Thank you all for reading, subscribing, bookmarking and commenting. And for all the kudos! It is always nice to know that people appreciate what I write. You all deserve hugs and lots of salted-caramel ice-cream or Oreos, whatever you prefer.
> 
> I am sorry that it took so long for me to update. This fanfic is not my priority in the moment between LtE and WiB. 
> 
> And Real-life was very demanding. November and December are not emotional good month for my family and I and work was a b****. 
> 
> And then I got completely distracted and hooked up by several things. First with _Yuri!!! on ICE_ (watched it definitely more than once), then I found the wonderful author _Heidi Cullinan_. Her books are brilliant, I am on my way reading them all. My favourites are _Carry the Ocean_ , _Antisocial_ and _Special Delivery_. 
> 
> And last week someone recommended the book _Simon vs the Homo Sapiens Agenda_ to me - OMG I love it and the movie adaption ( _Love, Simon_ ) too. Watching and reading this I somehow wish I had a coming out in school. Which I hadn’t (for me it was always obvious that I am not hetero) but I was this nerdy antisocial girl with the I-am-not-interested-in-the-world-or-people-so-they-have-no-business-being-interested-in-me-attitude, nobody ever asked so I never told. The book and the movie makes me wonder what could have happened.  
> Okay I am rambling, sorry.
> 
> Additionally, I started the new year with a mild concussion. Not the best way to start a new year, but that means it can only get better.
> 
> But now, finally I managed to finish this chapter and I really hope you like it.
> 
> **This chapter is beta’ed by the brilliant vichan and Cameron Lindsey.**
> 
> Have fun reading.
> 
> **On with the story.**

 

Harry tried over and over again to start writing the letter to his godfather again, but the right words weren’t coming to him and the longer he held the quill, the more prominent the throbbing in his knuckles became.

He threw the quill aside in frustration and stared into the fireplace where a small fire had been maintained over the night by the house elves. He didn’t really know how to go about reassuring Sirius. Hell, he didn’t even know how to reassure Ron, who, based off of his disappearing act yesterday, was not nearly as okay with the hat’s choice as Hermione was.

In truth, he didn’t even know how to reassure himself. He knew he was no different than the previous day when he awoke at Grimmauld Place, but he also knew being sorted into Slytherin would change so much - perhaps too much. However, he wouldn’t let his sorting change him.

Harry ran his fingers through his hair with a sigh. He needed to find something to distract his thoughts, so Harry stood up and looked around the sparsely lit common room, which he realized, now that it was completely void of people, was immense compared to its Gryffindor counterpart. As it was in the dungeons, where infinitely more space was available then in the towers, that somehow made sense.

Harry sighed again and wished he was in the smaller, round, _warm_ common room in the lions’ tower. It may have been true that the snake’s common room was soothing and spacious, but simply wasn’t the same. He fiercely missed the familiar atmosphere. Besides, the dark shadows were a bit creepy, now that Harry allowed himself to actually take in the wide, silent room.

The sun was still below the horizon, therefore the crescent-shaped bulge that extended into the Great Lake, with its floor-to-ceiling windows, was cast into darkness. The water lapping against the glass was black, which enhanced the unsettling feeling of being underground. It certainly would take a bit of time to get used to it. 

Harry approached the bookshelves separating the section with the windows from the rest of the common room. Of course, the Slytherins had their own little library. He scanned the book titles out of curiosity, and surprisingly there were no Dark Arts books as Harry had assumed there would be. The contents of the bookshelves where actually quite diverse; books on every class Hogwarts offered were there, but there were also subjects like Alchemy, Warding, Healing, Magical Theory, and even household charms.

A book caught his eye, the cover a light red and the title in silver letters. ‘ _Beautify Yourself – Manicure, Glamour, Makeup, and Hairstyle Charms_ ,’ he read, a small chuckle escaped his lips. Why was such a book standing proud in the bookshelves of Slytherin house?

‘ _Glamours_ ’ suddenly jumped out at him, and he froze as the impending talk with Snape came to mind. Snape had mentioned they speak about his medical history, and that everyone would have a health check; this was something Harry felt that he dreaded even more than his upcoming breakfast with the rest of Slytherin house. He either needed a way around it, or a way to make it appear that everything was just fine.

Harry bit his lower lip as he opened the book in hesitation. He had read about glamours in one of the older books in the Black library, but he hadn’t really seen a use for them – as they could not alter or hide curse scars – and he hadn’t attempted to memorize what he had read.

The book in his hands sounded and looked like it had been published recently and seemed to be geared towards the fairer gender.

Harry scanned the index and let out a grin. Perhaps it wasn’t just the girls that read books like these. He flipped the pages to a specific chapter concerning hairstyles, which described more than a dozen different ways to tame your hair with the help of charms and potions. The chapter practically screamed that Malfoy had read it at some point, especially because someone had put a picture of Malfoy from his second year beside the charm- and potion-combination for the slicked-back style of hair. Scrawled beside the picture was a hasilty written ‘ _prime example’,_ in addition to lengthening the chapter title with a, ‘ _simply ask Malfoy_.’

Harry never thought the Slytherins actually had a sense of humour.

Harry shook his head when he realized that he had fallen into that generalized, prejudiced thinking again. Old habits die hard, he supposed.

He flipped to the chapters about glamour charms.  The wandwork looked surprisingly simple; what appeared to be challenging was the caster needing the appropriate intent, concentration, and mental picture of what the glamour was designed to accomplish. A perfect glamour wouldn’t simply look like what the caster wanted; it would also be stable, durable, and undetectable.

He kept reading, and a sigh of disappointment escaped him at what he learned. The charms only changed what could be seen; everything hidden underneath would still be there - scars would still be palpable, and the charms would not misdirect any kind of medical analysis spell.

_Damn_ the charms wouldn’t be useful to him, after all. Regardless, he decided to give them a shot; perhaps he could change his appearance enough to walk around Diagon Alley without anyone recognizing him. It could also help hide the welts from his dorm mates, just in case one of them ever walked in while he changed. He didn’t want to explain the half-healed wounds to anyone, and he certainly didn’t want his roommates to alert an adult.

It would only result in too many questions - questions Harry didn’t want to answer. It wasn’t as if those answers would actually change anything.

It never changed anything.

Harry pulled his wand out of his sleeve and decided to practise a glamour on the small scar at the inside of his left hand, where he’d landed in Petunia’s rose bushes after Dudley had pushed him. It took him several tries until he got it right and the scar vanished as if it had never been there. He could still feel it, though, just as the book explained.

It reminded him that the problem with the upcoming health examination still wasn’t resolved. No matter how much he wracked his brain, Harry couldn’t come up with a plan on how to get out of it.

Harry sighed as he realized that there wasn’t really anything could do. Besides, he was far better at thinking on his feet and improvising than coming up with plans.  He placed the book back on the shelf and scanned the titles for something else to read.

He settled on a book that looked promising: _See What Is Coming – Curses and Their Counter-Curses_. He returned to his armchair in front of the fireplace and curled up, opening the book. A few minutes later a quiet pop startled him and when he looked up, Harry found a folded blanket and a steaming mug on the table in front of him. He smiled as he arranged the blanket around him. Despite the fire and warming charms in the floor rugs, the dungeons where still rather chilly.

He took a sip from the mug and was pleasantly surprised to find it contained delicious and thick hot chocolate, and he let out a contented sigh. One of the house-elves, who maintained the fire and cleaned the common room, must have seen him. Harry whispered a quiet, “Thank you,” which was answered with a delighted squeak from somewhere in the room.

At least the house-elves still liked him, even if he now wore green and silver.

He shook his head in an attempt to rid himself of the insecure thoughts about what the rest of the school’s reaction would be to his new sorting and immersed himself in his reading. 

 

* * *

 

Harry was in the middle of turning a page when the sound of footsteps halted his movement. He looked up and realized that the fire was a bit higher, and light shone through the windows with a slight green hue. He must have lost track of time while reading and now the first of his housemates were up and about.

The apprehension about meeting his housemates properly flared up again. As the footsteps neared the common room, Harry finished turning the page but slipped his wand from his sweater’s sleeve, hiding it behind the book. He felt somewhat paranoid.

_And isn’t that lovely?_ Not feeling entirely safe in my own common room _._ Harry pushed down the rising bitterness.

An older student stepped into the common room from the doorway leading to the girls’ dormitory. Harry thought perhaps she was a sixth or seventh year, and he didn’t know her name. The girl was taller, perhaps as tall as Ron, who was already heads above most of the fifth years, and she had dark hair, styled in a short pixie cut.

She halted her steps when she spotted Harry, and then proceeded to hang something on the announcement board. When she was done, she settled down at one of the tables near the board and pulled out some parchment. Soon, the scratching of her quill filled the quiet room.

Harry slid his wand back into his sleeve where he still could grab it if he needed it and tried to shift his concentration back to his book, but little by little more people filtered into the common room. He sighed as he closed the book and placed the blanket on the back of the armchair. He put the book back with reluctance; it had certainly been interesting and well-written. He made a mental note to ask if it was possible to borrow them. 

He felt someone watching him as he stood by the bookshelves. It didn’t feel at all hostile, but appraising, and perhaps even slightly intrigued. He was in no mood to interact with anyone just yet, so he settled down at a table by the bookshelves tucked in the back of the room.

The more people filed into the common room the more opportunity Harry had to observe his housemates in curiosity, noting the differences and similarities to the Gryffindors. The Slytherin students were rather quiet, especially the older years. The younger ones happily chatted, talking about their summers and their excitement to be at Hogwarts.

No exuberant twin terrors raced through the common room with disgusting cheer and wakefulness, and no half-dressed Lee Jordan hunted them in revenge for a wakeup call in form of a bucket full of cold water. No one was hastily trying to finish the summer assignments, and there was no Ron complaining loudly about being woken up far too early and being hungry.

But there were also many similarities. Some people discussed the upcoming classes and their homework. Others settled in around the room, reading or writing letters. Many others surfaced from the dorms, stumbled in and yawned before falling back to sleep in the armchairs and settees. Groups of girls giggled and exchanged gossip.

The Slytherins spread out across in the common room, clearly waiting for something as it was definitely too early for so many people to already be awake. Breakfast was at least still half an hour away.

Harry caught a glimpse of Malfoy, his platinum blond hair a beacon in the soft light of the room, as well as the other fifth year boys as they walked in. He could tell the moment Zabini, noticed him, and watched as he said something to the others. He was totally prepared to be ignored by his yearmates and was therefore a bit startled when they all made their way over to him.

“Morning, Potter.” Zabini said, and Harry had the suspicion that they had chosen him to interact with him because they didn’t really have any kind of negative history. That was also the case with Nott, but Harry had the impression the brown-haired boy was not nearly as outspoken as Zabini.

Had they decided it by a vote? Had Zabini volunteered? Or maybe they’d drawn straws? No, that was probably far too muggle for them.

He nodded at the group. “Morning.”

They took that as an invitation to sit down, and he caught more than one curious glance in his direction as they settled into an uncomfortable silence. Harry felt his curiosity rise - were they actually trying to include him? Was it really true that being a Slytherin meant they actually did mean to treat him as one of their own?

He’d always attributed loyalty to be one of the main traits of Hufflepuff, not Slytherin.

“We didn’t see you get up,” Zabini finally said, breaking the strained silence around the table. “Are you always awake that early?” Zabini certainly earned brownie points for at least trying, while Malfoy only muttered something under his breath.  Zabini glared at him.

Harry watched the interaction with interest. “Most of the time,” he answered. “What are y- _we_ waiting for?” He knew his near slip hadn’t gone unnoticed, if the amused glint in Zabini’s eyes was any indication.

To his surprise it wasn’t the dark-skinned boy who answered, but Malfoy. “It’s tradition for the whole house to go to the first breakfast of the school year together. Also, the first years don’t know the way yet.” The way he said it seemed casual, but Harry didn’t miss the small sneer and the underlying insult that Gryffindor didn’t have such traditions.

Harry just nodded, leaned back in his chair, feeling satisfied when Malfoy looked put out that he hadn’t risen to the bait. Had it always been that easy to read him?

“So... what do you think of the Slytherin common room and dorms?” Zabini enquired with a carefully neutral voice.

Harry snorted and nearly laughed out loud. The rest of the table sent him puzzled and marginally offended looks. “Sorry, but instead of trying to pry information out of me in order to figure out if... if Slytherin is _better_ or something why not just ask me?”

And that definitely insulted them. Harry was sure he heard Nott mumble something about “bloody Gryffindors” and “no subtlety at all”. He let their discomfort grow until they were fidgeting in their seats. How had he ever thought Slytherins were aloof and controlled?

“It’s definitely different,” Harry finally said, “Gryffindor tower doesn’t have as much space compared to the dungeons, but it’s warmer and cosier than it is here.” He shrugged. “I don’t think you can really compare them. They’re too different.”

Malfoy opened his mouth but a voice from the front cut in before he could even say one word.

“Good morning, everybody.” The tall girl with the pixie cut stood in front of the door of the common room. “I am Zoë Fraser, seventh year, and Head Girl this year. I also want to welcome you all back to Hogwarts and our new housemates to Slytherin house. I know you are all eager to go to breakfast but let me say a few words.”

She looked around shortly. “Professor Snape said everything there is to say yesterday. This is your home ‘til you leave Hogwarts. We are all family now. It is unimportant what your ancestry is because we see you for your own worth. If you have any problems or questions you may come to me or the prefects.” Upon those words several people, including Malfoy, stood up.

“Best come to us before you go to Professor Snape; he is not the easiest person to open up to.” She smiled at them with a slight wink and Harry heard a few chuckles around the room. “Now, for the first breakfast of the year we will all go to the Great Hall together. To our first years, a prefect or myself will show you around the castle in the next few days. You will hopefully know your way around soon.”

Harry couldn’t see the younger years from where he sat, but he could picture their expressions. It had taken him a little longer than a week to really remember the way to the Great Hall and all the classrooms.

The Head Girl led the first years out of the common room and rest of Slytherin house trailed behind them. Harry tried to drag his feet and take up the back, but with an amused look Zabini had somehow managed to herd him to the middle of the gaggle. Harry tried to appear casual, but he could feel glances being thrown in his direction. They still seemed unsure of what to think about his re-sort. And really, Harry was just as unsure of them as they were of him; everything he had seen so far from the house of snakes confused him. It was completely different from what he had expected.

On the way to the Great Hall Harry tried to memorize the route. He’d mostly worked through that initial shock and his mind was now much more eager to pay attention to his surroundings. After four years at Hogwarts, he knew his way around and was relieved that he already knew most of the hallways they used. It wouldn’t be too hard to find his way on his own.

When they reached the Great Hall Harry realized how much earlier than his normal breakfast time it was. Thanks to Ron, who generally needed more than one wake-up-call, Harry had almost always arrived quite late. It was only when Harry had gone alone or with Hermione that he had been early.

Despite the hour, the other three house tables were far from empty. At least half of Ravenclaw and a good part of Hufflepuff were already having breakfast, chatting happily. Over at the Gryffindor table only some of the older years were present, and to Harry’s surprise two very familiar redheads were among them.

The twins looked up and winked at Harry when Slytherin house walked into the Great Hall. Nobody looked all that surprised that they all came in together. Snape already sat at the High Table and his gaze travelled over them, and then with a nod to the Head Girl he went back to the discussion he was having with Flitwick.

Harry mouthed a ‘good morning’ to Fred and George as he walked to their seats at Zabini’s side. Eager for a good cup of tea after his too short night and the strange behaviour of the house of snakes.

He ignored everyone around him as he poured himself a cup with a little bit of milk and perhaps more sugar than was healthy. The first gulp was heaven and after he drained the cup completely and reached for the pot to prepare another, he registered that the surrounding Slytherins watched him with amused but also slightly disgusted expressions. Everyone but Crabbe and Goyle, at least; they were fixated on filling their plates.

“What?” His question brought them out of whatever stupor they’d been in and they began to pour themselves tea and filling their plates.

“Sweet tooth?” Zabini asked from his right side.

Harry looked down at his teacup where he had just dumped a third spoonful of sugar and shrugged. “Yeah. So what?” It wasn’t like he had many sweets while growing up, so he savoured that he simply could put as much sugar into his tea as he wanted.

“Too much sugar is detrimental to your health,” Greengrass said; it was the first time she’d addressed Harry directly. “It’s true that our bodies need a lot of energy in order to perform magic adequately, but we are not immune to all of the problems a high-sugar diet can bring later in life, like high blood pressure. It’s better to gain the necessary energy by eating carbohydrates instead of overly fatty or sweet food.” She lectured from beside Zabini and Harry felt eerily reminded of Hermione, who, thanks to having dentists for parents, was slightly obsessed with teeth-care and therefore sugar intake.

He grabbed a bowl of porridge, topped it with nuts and fruits and a somewhat absurd amount of brown sugar. Greengrass narrowed her eyes at him, but Harry only grinned at her and savoured his first bite.

“So sue me. If one of the darkest wizards of our time couldn’t kill me, I don’t think I have to be afraid of sugar. I’m sure the mighty Dark Lord will kill me before sugar ever has a chance.” He was prepared to be reprimanded for his slight mockery, but not for the reaction to his words.

Zabini’s fork paused halfway to his mouth and he looked at Harry in shock, and Malfoy made a choking sound around his mouthful of eggs. Nott spluttered, and Parkinson and Greengrass looked at him with nearly identical expressions of horror. Davis and Bulstrode tried to hide the snorts escaping them before they gave up and grinned at him. Meanwhile, Crabbe and Goyle didn’t react at all, occupied with the food in front of them.

Harry tried to suppress a laugh, but he snickered. “Merlin, your _faces_. What? Can’t a guy make a joke anymore?”

Zabini slowly lowered his fork and frowned at him. “How can you joke about someone trying to kill you? About your own mortality?”

Harry shrugged. “When it happens every single year - sometimes more than once a year - you tend to get used to it,” he said. “What should I do instead? Hide and tremble in fear? That wouldn’t help any more than getting angry all the time.” Not that he could change that… he paused, realizing that the anger that filled him during the entire summer was only a small flame at the back of his mind. It was still with him, but muted.

He took another bite, while the others composed themselves again. The gears seemed to be turning in their heads as they digested what he said.

“So, you’ve been in mortal danger more than once?” Davis asked, curious.

“Every year.” They certainly looked intrigued at that. Harry didn’t know exactly what compelled him to so - hadn’t they heard the stories? -  but he elaborated. “In first year, we had the troll in the bathroom, and then snake-face...” He ignored the choking sounds around him in response to his nickname for Voldemort. “... on the back of our Defence professor’s head, and he tried to kill me. In second year, there was a rogue bludger that tried to kill me, a cheat for a Defence professor who tried to obliviate me and Ron. Then there was a teenage version of snake-face, plus his pet Basilisk, who both tried to kill me.”

They all stared at him with wide eyes, and it appeared that his audience had grown as a few students sitting nearby tried and failed to appear that they weren’t listening. Harry found this all quite amusing; for some reason, shocking Slytherins into speechlessness was really fun.

“In third year, there were Dementors that kept coming after me, an escaped convict who was supposedly trying to kill me, and let’s not forget the best Defence Professor we’ve ever had, but forgot to take Wolfsbane one night and turned into a werewolf that tried to eat me.” He shook his head sadly.

“In our fourth year, there was the Triwizard Tournament, which was full of things trying to kill me, and a demented ex-auror for a Defence Professor who was not what he seemed to be. And then there was the...” He trailed off; as amusing as it was, he didn’t want to elaborate. Most of them knew what had happened in the graveyard, likely from sources that he didn’t want to think about.

“This year’s series already started with the Dementor trying to suck out my soul, and I have high hopes that our Defence Professor will carry on the tradition of every Defence professor trying to kill me. I’ve already got the feeling that she doesn’t much like me.” He snorted. “But if we use ‘disliking me as a scale for the likelihood of someone trying to kill me, Professor Snape should have given it a shot the moment I stepped off the Hogwarts express in first year.” He let his gaze drift up in the direction of the High Table. “But really - nobody who wears that much pink is up to anything good.”

At his words all eyes followed his up to the High Table, where their new Defense Professor Dolores Umbridge was trying to engage their Head of House in conversation; a sickening, saccharine smile on her face. Harry absently wondered if she’d been in Slytherin herself.

“Well,” Davis said in a dry tone, “if Professor Snape doesn’t kill her, the curse on the post will at least ensure that she won’t stay here longer than a year.” They watched Snape’s face project more than a hint of disgust as Umbridge tittered and smiled and continued her apparently uninteresting, dull talk.

Harry sighed. “Just my luck. He’s gonna be completely irritated by the time I have my meeting with him.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Bulstrode said quietly “You are a Slytherin now. He will treat you fairly.”

“Not behind closed doors,” Harry muttered, but kept his voice low so that no one heard him.

 

* * *

 

The rest of the breakfast had been surprisingly pleasant, and Harry could at least give his new housemates the credit for trying.

He had found that Davis and Bulstrode had a dry kind of humour he could see himself getting used to, and they at least seemed to be able to handle his own brand of gallows humour. Zabini seemed friendly enough. Nott didn’t say much, but Harry caught him a few times with a small grin on his face, and he’d overheard a few snarky remarks the brown-haired boy tended to mutter under his breath. Harry was fairly sure that Nott was surprisingly witty and funny, at least in his head.

Greengrass was odd, lecturing about everything in a confusing cross between arrogant and caring. He didn’t really know her, but he had the terrifying suspicion that behind her cold and haughty exterior was a mother-hen just as bad as Mrs. Weasley.

Malfoy, on the other hand, was completely confusing. Harry had been getting sneers and taunts from him for years, and he was used to being ridiculed and insulted. Malfoy was instead eerily neutral and even civil.

He remained tight-lipped without being rude. He listened to the conversations the others drug Harry into. Harry could practically feel Malfoy’s gaze on him, and every time Harry had looked over at him, he found intense grey eyes and a calculating frown, like he was staring at a puzzle he wanted to solve but didn’t have all the pieces to.

Malfoy’s constant inspection threw Harry the most, but he wasn’t the only one. There were others who still watched him when they thought his attention was elsewhere, expressions of appraisal and intrigue drawn across their faces

Harry always thought that the Ravenclaws were the ones obsessed with riddles and puzzles.

He supposed he could understand why they studied him; he’d suddenly been re-sorted to their house and had completely rattled their conceptions of him. However, the constant feeling of being observed exhausted him

Even so, his first breakfast as a snake could have been worse. He found Hermione at the lions’ table afterward and they promised to meet in the library before lunch. He looked forward to finally getting to spend time with one of his best friends.

But first, he had to face the moment he’d truly been dreading.

He stood before the door to Professor Snape’s office, trying to find the courage to knock.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **AN:** Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think.
> 
> Many thanks to vichan and Cameron Lindsey for helping to improve my grammar and spelling.
> 
> First published: 14th of January 2019  
> Last edited: 4th of February 2019


	5. Scrutiny and Subterfuge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** Nothing in the Harry Potter universe is mine. I simply love to play with it.
> 
> **AN:** Thank you all for reading, subscribing, bookmarking and commenting. And for all the kudos!  
>  It is always nice to know that people appreciate what I write, and I love the ones with constructive criticism.  
> You all deserve hugs and lots of salted-caramel ice-cream or Oreos, whatever you prefer.
> 
> And to the ones leaving insulting and negative reviews: nobody is forcing you to read this story. Stop reading if you don’t like it. But at least most of them make me laugh, seriously I have a twisted humour. 
> 
> This chapter is longer than the previous ones, but I didn’t want it to end at the typical length, because then we would be in a cliff-hanger and that would have been too mean. But I don’t think the next one will be as long as this.
> 
> This chapter is beta’ed by the wonderful **vichan** and **Cameron Lindsey**. Thanks to you two, you are the best!
> 
> Have fun reading.
> 
> **On with the story.**

 

‘Breathe. This can’t be any worse than one of his detentions.’ Harry tried to calm himself as much as possible before he knocked on the office door.

Still, a little uneasiness was settling in his stomach, because it certainly _was_ different than detentions.

For the last four years, Snape had only been his Potions professor. Harry was about to face him as his Head of House, and if he had learned anything about Slytherin in less than twenty-four-hours as a snake, it’s that their Head of House didn’t handle things the same way as McGonagall.

“Come in, Mr Potter,” his Potions professor answered. The change of address startled him and he nearly stumbled into the door; he had just been _Potter_ for so long. Harry caught himself, took another breath then opened the door to step inside. Snape sat behind his desk and gestured to the seat in front of him, which Harry took, his back stiff. The professor regarded him with an unreadable expression before he spoke with a rather calm and collected voice.

“Mr Potter, your placement so late in your education is highly unusual, but nevertheless, you are now part of Slytherin house,” he said, “Despite our… _unfavourable_ relationship so far, I am now responsible for you and I take this duty seriously.” For a brief moment Snape looked as if he was actually pained to say such a thing. “This includes your physical and emotional wellbeing. If any student is giving you trouble due to your new sorting, your previous standing in Slytherin, or because of certain… _allegiances_ , you may come to me.” Snape paused. “You _must_ come to me if anyone is threatening you. It will not be tolerated.”

Harry suppressed a snort; he knew that he would never take Snape up on his offer, even if he had managed to say it without looking like he had bitten a lemon. Even so, his uneasiness grew with the professor’s statement. Never had an adult announced that they were taking his well-being seriously in any way and Harry wasn’t really sure how to handle it.

Then the professor’s eyes turned scornful and derogative, an all-too familiar expression.

“Now - let me make one thing very clear to you, Potter. I’ve watched you running around the castle, blatantly disregarding the rules – which are in place to keep students and therefore _you_ and your friends safe – with minimal consequences.” Snape narrowed his eyes at him. “Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore may have given you leeway so far, but I certainly will not do so. You will abide by _all_ of the rules or you will learn how I punish members of my house. Do not foolishly believe that your _fame_ will help you in any way, and your arrogant behaviour will do you no favour.” Snape sneered at him and his cold glare bored into Harry.

The uneasiness in Harry died down. That was the Snape he was used to, the one he knew how to handle and how to react to. He didn’t say anything but simply met Snape’s stare with his own.

He had no delusions that Snape would actually treat him the same as the other Slytherins. Their animosity was too great. The man had hated him from the very first look. Why should _him_ wearing green change any of that?

The professor was quiet for a few moments before picking up one of the parchments from the pile on his desk. He unrolled it and started to speak in an unsettling calm and controlled voice. Harry would have preferred the sneer.

“What we will talk about today is your school work, how you are settling in so far, and about anything you or I think needs to be discussed,” he said. “We will also discuss your medical report if there is something that needs to be discussed. Let us start with your school work.”

The change in topic threw Harry a little. He wanted to talk about his school work? Did Heads of Houses do something like this? Did teachers?

The uneasiness rose up again.

“I have surveyed your performance report. Your grades in Defence Against the Dark Arts are at the top of your class.” Had that been a compliment? Snape continued. “Charms, Herbology and Transfiguration are all above average. If you would be graded in these subjects based on O.W.L. standard now, you would receive at least an A. Your wand work seems satisfying enough, and with a little effort in your theoretical work you could raise your grade to an E, perhaps even an O.”

Harry was stunned. No teacher before had ever spoken with him about his schoolwork; not even Remus had sat down with him to discuss how he was doing. And here Snape, of all people, talked with him about it in a surprisingly civil fashion.

“If you need help understanding the theory or need assistance in the construction of an essay, I recommend that you attend tutoring classes,” Snape continued. “They take place every Tuesday and Thursday in the classroom next to my office from 3 PM until dinner. The upper years will be available to assist you in any subject you need. Additionally, Mr. Malfoy or Miss Davis would both be perfect choices from your year to ask for help. As the time between dinner and curfew is to be spent in the common room, that time may also be used for homework or tutoring.”

There was absolutely no way in hell Harry would ask any of the Slytherins - especially _Malfoy_ , of all people - for help with his homework. He paused in his thoughts and inwardly sighed. They had been rather civil thus far - friendly, even - and they were his housemates until he left Hogwarts. Perhaps he should ask… it wasn’t like he had class with Ron and Hermione anymore. _That_ thought made him equally sad and angry.

What would it mean for their friendship? Since coming to Hogwarts, he always had been together with Ron - in their dorm, in class, in the Great Hall. Their friendship had grown with the proximity. With Harry in Slytherin, they would have to plan and arrange times to see each other - that was if Ron was even still interested in keeping their friendship. He had to! Four years of friendship couldn’t be erased that easily.

Harry shoved the thoughts aside and concentrated on Snape, who continued.

“Care of Magical Creatures also seems satisfying, if we overlook the competence level of the professor.”

Harry clenched his teeth. He didn’t think for one minute that the slur against Hagrid had not been deliberate, but Snape continued without a glance at him. Perhaps that hadn’t been meant as a provocation of _Harry,_ but simply Snape being - well, Snape.

“Your performance in Astronomy could stand some improvement, as well as in Divination and History. Your grades in those classes are abysmal.” Even that insulting statement was made in a rather flat tone. Where was the mockery? The resentment? Could Snape’s treatment of Harry really change that much simply due to Harry’s change of house? He was practically dizzy from all the confusion.

“Regarding Divination, you are the only Slytherin student from your year taking it. You will therefore take part in the Hufflepuffs’ class.” Then Snape’s tone changed briefly to the one Harry was used to hearing from him: hard, acidic, and slightly mocking. “And concerning your incompetence in Potions, I don’t believe we have to speak of it.” His gaze bored into Harry’s, but there were too many expressions in his professor’s face to distinguish them completely. Anger, resentment, rancour, loathing – yes – but there were definitely more. 

The professor’s attention turned back to the parchment. “For Potions, Divination, and History, a tutor will be assigned to you in order to improve your performance to at least a passing grade in each subject. We will see who is available during the first tutoring session. Any concerns or questions so far?”

Harry briefly wondered if he should ask if it was possible to change classes – Divination in particular - but decided against it and shook his head. “No, sir.”

“Very well.” Snape set down the parchment that evidently held Harry’s grades and began paging through another stack. “Now, then... I read your medical history provided by Pomfrey and I must say the amount of time you have spent in the Hospital Wing is… impressive. I know of most of your _escapades_ from the previous years and can link some of the findings to this, but I’d like some clarification on a few events.” He seemed to find the parchment he was looking for and pulled it out. “The magical exhaustion at the end of first year was due to your confrontation with Professor Quirrell?”

Harry nodded, nausea squirming in his stomach. What all showed up in his medical file? And why did Snape want to talk about it? The whole situation – sitting with Snape in his office, speaking without exchanging a single insult – was rather disconcerting.

“Verbal confirmation, if you would, Potter.” The professor’s voice cut through his thoughts.

“Yes, sir,” Harry replied quietly.

“How did you manage to lose all the bones in your arm in second year?” Snape looked down the bridge of long nose at him, still calm, still controlled, but not as cold as before.

“It was broken by a bludger and Lockhart vanished the bones in his attempt to heal them,” he answered reluctantly. Snape stared at him like Harry was a puzzle he didn’t have all the pieces to.

Snape finally nodded and his gaze wandered down the parchment. Harry prayed that he wouldn’t ask about the events at the end of second year. He hadn’t gone to Madam Pomfrey and nobody insisted that he go. He was quite sure being bitten by a Basilisk – even if healed by Phoenix tears – would have merited further medical attention and medical scans, and Harry had been quite happy to avoid them.

He wasn’t even sure if he had ever mentioned the bite to Dumbledore. If Snape learned of it, Harry was certain that would result in suspicion and would merit an extra trip to the infirmary. He still wasn’t even sure how he could evade the one already set for today.

“In your third year, Madam Pomfrey had to treat you three times due to Dementor exposure - a check-up directly upon arrival at Hogwarts, after the attack during a Quidditch match, as well as at the end of the year, when you foolishly tried to save _Black_.” Snape sneered the name in disgust. “You have quite a severe reaction to Dementors, I gather.”

It was not phrased as a question and Harry didn’t answer. He certainly would not tell Snape what he heard when a Dementor was near. He shrugged as he felt the man’s gaze, but for once it didn’t feel threatening or scornful.

“The treatments during the Triwizard Tournament are also listed here, as well as the stay after the third task. Acromantula bite, nerve-damage, a rather long and deep cut in the pit of your arm and magical exhaustion.” Snape paused after listing what was noted on the parchment. “‘Nerve-damage?’” he repeated, giving Harry a questioning look. He sat stiff in his chair, uncomfortable with Snape’s scrutiny. He didn’t want to remember that particular day.

But Snape’s expression demanded an answer.

“Er…” Harry cleared his throat. “Vol…” Snape’s sharp glare stopped him. “At the graveyard… _he_ liked to use _Crucio_.”

Something unreadable flickered in the professor’s eyes. “How often?”

“Twice.”

The man made a noise that Harry couldn’t read - not quite a gasp, and it didn’t sound like surprise. That expression that Harry couldn’t quite read almost seemed like _concern_.

‘No,’ Harry decided. ‘Couldn’t be, not from Snape.’

“No lasting effects? Spasms? Numbness or stiffness?”

“No.” The questions and the expression rattled him. His answer wasn’t entirely truthful; sometimes the knuckles in his right hand were stiff, but he was almost positive that was because Dudley had once slammed his hand in the car door.

Snape’s unsettling, studious look continued for another moment or two before he continued. “A rather unusual assembly of injuries over the years. Despite this, there is nothing in your medical report of typical ailments - no colds, no flu.” The tone suggested that an answer was needed.

“I don’t get ill very often,” Harry said evasively. It wasn’t really untrue - he _didn’t_ often get ill enough to warrant a trip to the infirmary. When he had gotten ill in second year he had nearly gone, but the whole situation with the petrifications and Slytherin’s heir made Harry decide against it. And it had only been a cold. Ron and Hermione had attributed his silence, pale face, and fatigue to the hostile atmosphere in the school.

“It seemed you received the necessary shots at your Muggle primary school, but no follow-ups were ever done. Care to explain?”

Harry felt more and more like he was being interrogated.

“The D – my aunt and uncle must have forgotten during the summer holidays, I think.” He shrugged and the professor narrowed his eyes at the gesture.

“I will write a note to Madam Pomfrey to get you caught up with preventative potions.” Snape’s quill scratched across the parchment.

“What also seem to be missing are the annual health checks. Did Professor McGonagall not send you Madam Pomfrey for those?” Now Snape’s voice was flat, as if daring him to lie.

Harry squirmed in his seat. “She does - I just missed it one or two times…” He trailed off.

“Or _all_ times. Above a simple health check, Potter? Or do you believe you know more about your own health than a certified healer?” Snape’s lips curled into a mocking smile.

Harry decided not to answer and ignored the piercing gaze.

“Madam Pomfrey will be waiting for you when we are finished here. You will immediately go to the infirmary, and this will be rectified. As Madam Pomfrey has had you in her care more than once, I don’t expect the health check to reveal anything surprising; nevertheless, it has to be done. But I do hope, Mr Potter, that nothing aside from a simple cold will hold you in the infirmary from now on.”

Harry understood the underlying message just fine and could only barely suppress a sigh. It wasn’t that he searched for trouble; trouble just always found him.

Snape set the quill aside and folded his hands under his chin, giving Harry a rather intense look, and Harry had a sudden panicking suspicion that he could read minds.

“Now, are there any other issues you want to discuss?”

Harry shook his head. There was no way that he would discuss anything with Snape. “No, sir.” So far, the Slytherins had treated him rather normal. Nobody had tried to steal his stuff or hex him or anything of the sort. Nobody had even insulted him – apart from Malfoy and Parkinson the previous evening, but that was to be expected.

“This unusual change will take everyone some time to grow adjusted to, but I have every faith in my snakes. Now, Madam Pomfrey is waiting for you. Go along.” Snape dismissed him with a gesture towards the door.

 

* * *

 

If someone had told him that a civil, insult-free conversation with his most hated teacher was possible, he would have believed the person to be crazy. But he indeed managed to have a civil, insult-free conversation with the professor, and wasn’t sure what he should make of it.

Harry took his time on the way to the hospital wing, his mind going in a hundred directions all at once. If he didn’t appear Snape would surely hear about it, ask questions, and then drag him there. If he let Madam Pomfrey perform the health check, there would be questions, regardless.

No matter what, Harry was going to have to face someone questioning his physical state.

He slipped into a nearby bathroom and locked the door behind him. He shrugged off his robe and then slipped out of the hoodie and tee he wore beneath it. Harry approached the mirrors above the sinks and inspected his back; there were a handful of half-healed welts scattered across his skin, one curled around his ribcage in a mockery of a tattoo. The numerous bruises stood out harshly under the bathroom light.

He sighed. How could he hide this? Even a superficial medical scan would make the injuries apparent. The bruises he could explain with some physical activity – rugby, American football, or even brawling.

The welts were a different story. He was lucky Uncle Vernon had not used the side with the belt buckle, or they would have been much deeper. As long as Harry was careful, these wouldn’t even leave a scar.

Still, there was no explanation for the wounds without raising Madam Pomfrey’s suspicion.

Ideas raced through his head, even ideas that were reckless and foolish and certain to go wrong. There was no possible way he could sneak into the Hospital Wing, steal some healing potion, and heal himself before he had the check-up. He was already down to the wire, and he wasn’t even sure he knew what type of potions to look for. He heard a voice – which sounded unsurprisingly like Hermione – telling him what a terrible plan it was and how there was no way it would work.

He discarded that idea with a sigh.

He dressed again and splashed his face with cold water. How could he get out of this predicament? He wished he could ask Sirius, but he had no means of contacting Sirius.  Besides, his godfather would surely want to know _why_ he needed a way to hide injuries from a medical scan.

Running a hand through his hair, Harry stared sightlessly into the mirror and sighed again, trying to think of what he actually knew about the medical checks he’d never attended. He remembered hearing from his former Gryffindor roommates that the health check was usually just a diagnostic spell; Madam Pomfrey apparently didn’t ask anyone to disrobe unless something came up in her spell.

With that, it hit him.

The wards he had put on his bed prevented spells, noise, and even objects or people from passing through, hiding and concealing what was behind them. The wards were based and anchored in spells and runes, linked and combined to direct Harry’s intentions.

Yes, runes were theoretically only letters, but if it was possible to use runes as anchors and templates for spells, like they could be used in wards, why couldn’t it be possible with medical scans? He just needed a way to prevent the scan from penetrating all the way down to the injuries, much like he’d prevented spells from penetrating his bed curtains.

He stared at his reflection. Was it possible? He would need to write the runes on his clothes or skin. He gripped the edge of the sink tight as he processed the idea.

Theoretically, it should be possible. He needed to look at his books to make sure, but the feeling of coming up with such a solid foundation renewed his determination.

Harry unlocked the door and ran all the way back to the Slytherin common room, grateful that he remembered the way without an issue. He skidded to a halt in front of the stone wall concealing the entrance and tried to even out his breathing before whispering the password in an urgent tone.

Once inside he saw that the common room was occupied, and a few surprised looks were sent his way as he hurried through, but he ignored them and walked briskly down to his dorm. The fifth-year dorm was thankfully empty, and Harry swiftly searched through his trunk for the books he had brought with him from the library at Grimmauld place.

He knew he had to hurry. He wasn’t sure if Madam Pomfrey would alert Snape if he did not appear immediately.

He began to flip through the books on warding, ancient runes, as well as some of the darker books he had brought with him.

It felt like a lifetime until he found the information, he needed in one of the darker books - _Magic of Flesh and Blood_. However, he certainly would have to change the procedure described there; there was no way he was carving the runes into his own flesh.

But, yes, he could write runes on a living being, and combine them with spells to strengthen their protections. As far as Harry could tell they would only hold against simple scanning spells; for more invasive spells the runes would need to be written directly on the organs and bones. The pictures beside the description were rather gruesome, and Harry had no interest in causing himself further injury. They would also not hold for very long, and if he had to remove his clothes the runes would be immediately seen, which would result in a whole different series of questions that Harry wouldn’t want to answer.

But it was better than nothing. It was crazy, but Harry was rather good with crazy, reckless plans.

He transfigured a quill into a brush, grabbed an ink bottle, and went to the bathroom to hide in a shower stall. He definitely didn’t want his new house mates to walk in while he painted runes on himself. He started painting on nearly every part of his body - on his stomach, his arms, his chest, his ribcage, his lefts, and the parts of his back and shoulder blades he could reach. As he moved the brush from limb to limb Harry realized that there was scarcely a single part of his body that Vernon hadn’t left bruised.

The runes for concealment and evasion should misdirect the medical scanning spell. The runes for deception and illusion would be combined with the glamour charm he had just learned that morning, which would allow him to hide the bruises and welts. He used the rune for _truth_ to tie the glamour spells and illusion runes together, and then added the rune for _health_ so Pomfrey’s medical scanning spell should give her normal read-out.

The runes alone would do nothing, but linked and combined with warding spells, which used them as a template and anchor, it should – it _had_ to function. Harry might have been new at using runes and building wards, but he didn’t have a choice; he had to make sure that they worked.

Harry took a deep breath as he set the brush aside and lifted his wand. The glamour charm came first, followed by the spell to link all of the runes. Then he performed a spell to activate and raise a ward that would anchor the runes and function based on their intent. He put as much magic into it as he dared. He felt the magic settle in and around his skin. It was an odd feeling; like an electrical current traveling all over his body.

He looked into the mirror and couldn’t help but laugh. He’d succeeded; the bruises and welts were no longer visible and when he carefully traced his ribcage where the large welt had been, he couldn’t even feel the injury anymore.

But he looked completely insane with the runes covering his skin. His hair was completely out of control as always, and his green eyes seemed brighter than usual. He seemed to be the perfect picture of madness.

Harry shrugged and turned around to inspect his back, where he could only reach his hips and parts of his shoulder blades with the brush, but the skin there also appeared unmarked and uninjured.

He knew he had to hurry. He’d never tried anything like this and wasn’t sure how long it would actually hold. He felt the buzz of the ‘body-ward’ traveling across his skin, working to fulfil its purpose, but the magic he had put in it would not hold forever.

Harry dressed carefully after he was sure the ink was dry, placed the brush, ink and books back into his trunk, and finally made his way to the infirmary.

 

* * *

 

Madam Pomfrey was busy with a young Hufflepuff when Harry walked in, but she gestured towards one of the beds when she saw him enter.

Harry took a seat on the edge of the bed and tried desperately not to sweat; sweating would smear the runes and break down the wards on his body. But he was nervous; what if his crazy idea didn’t work? If it was that easy, somebody certainly would have done it before, and Pomfrey would have caught them.

He took a deep breath and desperately tried to calm the chaotic thoughts in his mind.

When Madam Pomfrey finally approached him, he forced his panic down. There was no way out now.

“Hello, Mr Potter. I really hope not to see you very often this year.” She gave him a kind smile.

“I will try my best, Madam Pomfrey.” He was grateful that his voice didn’t shake.

“So, let’s see.” She flicked her wand and a parchment came flying out of her office. “Ah, Severus commented on the lack of health check reports from the previous years and that it appears you missed some vaccinations. He is always very thorough with checking on his wards.”

She read further. “It does appear that we missed some health checks.” She regarded Harry with a frown. “All of them, in fact.”

“Er… the beginnings of the school years were always kinda chaotic, and I forgot… I think.” Harry scratched his neck and looked up at her with a sheepish expression. She continued to regard him with a measuring look, but the frown disappeared.

“If you say so, dear,” she said. “It seems this was partially my fault; I never realized that the reports were non-existent. I will be sure not to overlook it again.” She gave him a stern look Harry gulped and nodded. There would be no more evading the yearly visit. “Now, then - let’s not wait any longer. I will perform a standard medical scanning spell. One copy will be sent to your Head of House, and the other will be placed into your medical file.”

She lifted her wand and Harry stiffened.

“This will only take a few minutes at most,” Madam Pomfrey said. “It will look for present illness or injuries, will check your weight, height, blood pressure, nourishments, test for allergies and the like. It is not a deep scan, which I only will perform if something of concern is found in this one.”

The panic was back again; he had completely forgotten about his weight and he wasn’t sure if a few weeks with Mrs Weasley’s food would counter the poor nourishment he certainly had from the Dursleys.

But Madam Pomfrey was already waving her wand and Harry felt the buzzing on his skin react to the magic settling over him. It was a very strange sensation. He could feel how the matron’s spell flowed through him – searching, scanning, analysing - but he could also feel how it was misdirected from the welts; it was as if her magic was skipping over parts of his skin.

Harry felt beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He didn’t dare to breathe.

Madam Pomfrey waved her wand again over a blank parchment and the magic flowing through Harry left him and sank down into the sheet. Writing appeared, eerily similar to how the words had appeared in Riddle’s diary.

The matron picked up the parchment and started reading, nodding here and there, but also – to Harry’s not diminishing panic - frowning at some points.

“First, Mr Potter - what happened to your hand?”

Startled, Harry looked at his hand and groaned. He had forgotten what had happened in the shower earlier that morning and the wards didn’t seem to extend to his hands.

“Mr Potter?”

“I slipped and fell in the shower,” he mumbled. He received a disapproving look from the matron, who carefully took his hand and examined the damage.

“Well, nothing is broken,” she said. “But it is a rather serious contusion. I will give you a salve for the bruising and a potion for the pain and to accelerate healing.” She left Harry to get what she needed and returned with bandages, a small container, and a potion. She instructed Harry to drink the potion, then she spread cream from the container over his knuckles and immobilised the hand by wrapping it in bandages. The cream felt soothing and cool on his skin and Harry registered that the throbbing he had unconsciously ignored was subsiding.

He gave her a grateful smile and rested his hand in his lap. Madam Pomfrey looked at him in approval and settled on a chair beside him.

“Now, Harry - let’s talk about your medical scan results. I am a little concerned over some of the findings.”

‘Findings?’ She wanted to talk about what the scan had found? What _had_ it found? There was something to talk about? Harry felt nausea rising in his gut.

Madam Pomfrey continued. “It says you are rather underweight for your height, and your height itself is short for your age. You also show signs of malnourishment, which may explain the lack of height and weight. The malnourishment also compromises your immune system. We’ll have to postpone your missing preventative potions until it is more stable.”

Harry’s mind was racing. “What… what does that mean?”

She sighed and a look of concern blanketed her face. “That means, Mr Potter, that your immune system is rather weak and can’t fight off diseases as your schoolmates can,” she said. “You can come down with an illness much easier, the symptoms would be far more severe, and the recovery times would be longer. A cold which would give, let’s say, Mr Weasley, only an inconvenient cough, could lead to bronchitis or even pneumonia in your case.”

Harry looked at her with wide eyes, shocked. She patted his uninjured hand reassuringly.

“This will be easily solved if we improve your general health, and to do that we need to improve your nourishment levels,” she said. “Now, Mr Potter, why is your weight below the acceptable level and why do your nourishment levels suggest starvation?” Her level gaze rested on him.

Harry tried to hide the nervous twitch of his fingers in his lap. He couldn’t look into the nurse’s eyes, and his mind grasped for something to say. “After what happened at the end of last year… I wasn’t… I couldn’t…” He wasn’t completely sure what he wanted to say, but Madam Pomfrey patted his hand again and regarded him with a kind but sad, almost motherly expression.

“I understand, Mr Potter. I assume you had sleeping problems and little to no appetite?”

Harry nodded, relief washing over him. She was giving him an explanation without him having to say anything.

“Did you also have problems with keeping food down? Fatigue or restlessness?” The motherly demeanor she’d shown earlier was gone; she was all business.

Harry shook his head. “I… didn’t eat regularly… but had no problem keeping it down.”

“That is good. I will prescribe you a nourishment potion, which you will take with your breakfast. But until your weight is at an acceptable range there will be no flying for you, young man.” She gave him a stern look that told him she was not to be argued with. Harry tried to look crestfallen, but inwardly he was relieved; he didn’t need an excuse as to why he wouldn’t try out for his new house team.

“If you are having issues sleeping, I could give you a sleeping potion, but these are addictive and shouldn’t be used too often.” Her concerned gaze made him uneasy.

“No, that’s…. that’s ok.” Harry evaded her gaze, but she seemed to hear more in his voice than he wanted.

“Harry, do you have sleeping problems?”

He shoved the rising feelings from the nightmare this morning aside. “Sometimes.” He still didn’t look in her direction, but her expression told him she knew what he was not saying.

She sighed. “I really don’t want to give you Dreamless Sleep, but…” She paused in consideration “But we can try something different. I will order a house-elf to bring you a cup of tea every evening. It will be brewed from relaxing and soothing herbs and is known to help with these kinds of ailments. Now, fatigue or restlessness?” Madam Pomfrey enquired, her expression demanding an answer.

“Both.” Harry answered reluctantly and she nodded in understanding.

“Both should get better with quality sleep and a general improvement of your health,” she said. “But even with the nourishment potion you must eat balanced meals and drink plenty of fluids. If you can’t eat much at one meal, try to snack during the day. _Healthy_ snacks, Mr Potter - not sweets. Vegetables, fruits, nuts, and dairy products like yoghurt. I will inform the kitchen to provide them for you.” She gave him another no-nonsense look and then made several notes on the parchment. “I want to check on your progress in a few weeks. I will send you a note for the follow-up and will inform Severus of the date and time.”

Harry nearly choked. He had to go through all that again?

Madam Pomfrey rolled the parchment, then stood up and smiled at him. “If your issues with sleeping do not improve, please come back, Mr Potter. That is not something which should go overlooked. Your Head of House will get your updated medical file, so be prepared to be called for another talk. Severus is very invested in the wellbeing of his Slytherins. If you have nothing else, you are free to go.”

Relief washed over him as Harry left the infirmary and headed back to the dorms. He needed a shower to remove the ink from his skin. He was still a little dazed. That had gone much better then he even had hoped to imagine. It seemed that for once his sheer dumb luck had played in his favour.

But what did she mean he should be prepared to talk with Severus again?

He found his answer waiting in the common room. Harry had not even taken one step when Head Girl Fraser appeared beside him.

“Potter, Professor Snape wants to talk with you. He is waiting in his office.”

He nodded at her, turned around and left the common room. He could handle another talk with Snape, but he already felt completely exhausted when the day wasn’t even halfway done. Merlin, he hadn’t even started classes yet.

 

* * *

 

He felt drained when he knocked at the Snape’s door for the second time that day.

“Mr Potter, come in and sit down.” It was as if he hadn’t left the office at all. Snape still sat at his desk, a stack of parchment in front of him. Harry sank into the chair he had vacated only an hour ago.

“I received the report from Madam Pomfrey.” Nothing in Snape’s voice or face revealed his thoughts about it. He went directly to the matter at hand. “As your lack of nourishment is dangerously low, I will brew a specialised potion myself. She informed you that it is to be taken every morning with breakfast?” His dark gaze found Harry’s, who nodded.

“The prefects, the Head Girl, or I will take note that the potion is taken correctly.”

Harry frowned. Would that mean they would be watching him? He didn’t like it. But at least it didn’t seem like Snape wanted to talk about the reasons for his health problems.

“But even the best potion will not do any good without proper balanced meals.” The Professor lectured him while holding Harry’s gaze. “I’ve already informed the house-elves to put a specific diet plan together for you. Your personalized meals will appear directly before you. This doesn’t mean that you are not allowed to eat any of the other food on the table, but you should finish everything on your plate before engorging yourself with whatever rubbish teenagers prefer these days. Additionally, there will be snacks provided for you in the common room.”

Harry squirmed under the intense stare and simply nodded again. Snape’s voice was flat and controlled; Harry had absolutely no clue as to what the professor was thinking.

“The prefects have been informed about your diet plan, the immune deficiency, and the no flying rule. The Slytherin prefects and I will be keeping an eye on you. If you feel even the slightest bit ill you will immediately come to one of us. This is no situation for foolish recklessness.” The Professor’s voice made it clear that he would not accept any objections.

Witnessing _Snape_ – or any adult, really - showing an unfamiliar interest in his well-being left Harry feeling unbalanced - again.

“Madam Pomfrey also remarked that you have sleeping problems and prescribed an herbal tea,” Snape continued. “You are to drink it immediately before sleeping. If the tea doesn’t help, I will consult with Madam Pomfrey about alternative solutions, as I am also reluctant to give a highly addictive potion to a teenager on a regular basis.”

Snape rested his chin on his folded hands.

“She also had to treat your hand due to a contusion.” His gaze wandered to the bandaged hand resting in Harry’s lap. “How did this happen?”

“Er…”

“Do not even think to lie, Mr Potter,” Snape said.

“I… punched a wall, sir.”

If the situation hadn’t been so surreal, Harry would have laughed at the perplexed expression on the man in front of him. He didn’t think he’d ever seen such a look grace Snape’s features.

“You… punched a _wall_?” Snape slowly repeated, blinking.

Harry nodded. “Yes. This morning, in the shower.”

“And why, Mr Potter, did you feel the need to... punch a wall?” Snape’s drawl made it clear that Slytherins didn’t tend to throw their fists into walls.

Harry shrugged. “I was… a little overwhelmed with the situation, sir.”

Snape stayed silent while scrutinizing him, then he nodded and said dryly, “Very well. I would recommend to _not_ punch walls going forward, as they more often than not tend to be more indestructible then your bones. In a fight between a wall and your fist, the wall will win.” He raised one eyebrow at Harry. “That is all for now Mr Potter” he said in a clear dismissal.

Harry barely registered leaving and he found himself out in the hallway, his mind racing. Had that been a joke? A joke from _Snape_?

Harry walked back to the common room in a haze of confusion; the entire morning had honestly felt like a very vivid and very strange dream. He settled into an armchair and stared at the bowl of yoghurt, mixed with nuts and berries that had appeared before him. He realized he’d been focused on the bowl for several minutes when a cough shifted his attention to the Head Girl standing before him. How long had she been standing there?

“The house-elves didn’t prepare that for you to stare at. Eat!” Fraser’s voice was quiet but demanding. When Harry picked up the bowl and brought the first spoonful to his mouth she smiled, gave his shoulder a pat, and settled on a nearby settee with a book.

After the events of the morning, Harry was a little bit afraid to find out what the rest of the day would bring. Then he remembered that he still had to wash the ink off of his body. Looking down at his snack, he decided to do it after he ate.

Perhaps a relaxing shower would help calm his mind enough to deal with the rest of the day.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **AN:** Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think.
> 
> Many thanks to vichan and Cameron Lindsey for helping to improve my grammar and spelling.
> 
> First published: 24th February 2019


	6. That’s what friends are for

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** Nothing in the Harry Potter universe is mine. I simply love to play with it.
> 
> **AN:** Ah finally, the next chapter. Sorry that it took so long, but RL demanded a lot of attention. Thank you all for reading, subscribing, bookmarking and commenting. And for all the kudos! You are the motivation to keep on writing. 
> 
> This chapter is beta’ed by the wonderful **vichan** and **Cameron Lindsey**. Thanks to you two, you are the best!
> 
> Have fun reading.
> 
> **On with the story.**

 

Harry earned a frown from the Head Girl as he set aside the bowl of fruit before he was even halfway through it. He got up and headed to the dorms, and he could feel her eyes on his back all the way out of the common room.  He let out a slow breath as he closed the door behind him. He rested the back of his head against it, tension draining out of him. He hated the scrutiny; he felt as if his skin was itching from the feeling of being watched so closely.

Not for the first time that morning he wished he was back in Gryffindor tower. He had never experienced such close observation there that Slytherin subjected him to. He may have needed to adjust to be what was expected of him as a Gryffindor, but that had also been the kind of person he _wanted_ to be. He had carved a place for himself and it had been taken away.

The anger returned and squeezed his insides.

Harry took a few deep breaths and closed his eyes. “Get a grip, Potter,” he muttered. “You can’t change what happened. Get over it.” He pushed himself away from the wood at his back and headed for the bathroom.

After taking a wonderfully hot shower and washing the ink down the drain, Harry decided to see if Hermione was still waiting for him in the Library. He knew Hermione well enough to be fairly sure that she would still be there, even if it was Saturday and classes hadn’t even begun. He certainly couldn’t walk up to Gryffindor tower, judging by some of the hostile stares he had received the day before at the feast. He hadn’t dared to really look at the lion’s table during breakfast.

He ignored the glances being shot his way as he walked through the common room and made his way through the castle. He really hoped the novelty of him being in Slytherin would wear off sooner rather than later.

After he left the dungeons and reached the ground level of the castle, he understood why Snape had advised them to never walk alone. The open stares were expected and the muttered insults were annoying, but some students were bumping into him without apologizing, while others made it obvious that they tried to avoid him like he was contagious by turning around or walking away at the sight of him and he could practically feel the animosity in the air. He really hoped the open hostility was only because he was… well, _him,_ and that other Slytherins - especially the younger years - hadn’t had to handle it, too. He never really had paid attention to how all of Slytherin had been treated.

He frowned and decided he needed to at least be aware of it. Regardless of what he thought of them when he had been a first year, they were only eleven years old - still children - and they didn’t deserve to be mistreated and hated simply because of where they happened to be sorted.

He ignored the muttered insults and hissing – he chuckled humourlessly at how much it resembled Parseltongue – and made his way through the castle to the library. When he stepped through the doors into Madam Pince’s domain, blissful silence greeted him. The suspicious glance from the librarian was unlike the stares he’d received in the halls; after all, Madam Pince gave the same look to every student when they stepped into her domain, regardless of their house. He ignored her and walked through the rows of bookshelves.

At their favourite table buried deep in the library, he found her, and for a moment Harry just stood and observed his best – and perhaps now his only – friend.

Hermione’s head was bent over a thick and very old looking book, frustrated huffs escaping her every now and then. Slender fingers alternated between carefully turning the old parchment pages and pushing wayward locks of her bushy hair behind her ears, all the while her eyes never leaving the pages.

He smiled; the picture was so… _Hermione_.

He finally took a step towards the table and she looked up. The look of frustration and irritation dissipated as it registered with her exactly _who_ was disturbing her, and a wide smile appeared on her face.

“Harry!” She gestured for him to take the seat across from her. “I found this very interesting book about the four houses of Hogwarts. They mention more than one resorting; it seemed it was actually not all that uncommon in the past.” She pushed the book forward so he could see the text. “Here is the story of Llewelyn Wendelin, who was resorted more than once! She started out in Gryffindor…”

Hermione rambled on about what she had found in the book and Harry nodded and hummed where it was appropriate but didn’t listen that closely. It was interesting to know that it hadn’t been uncommon at one time, but that didn’t change his situation and he knew that there was no possibility for him to be sorted again. The hat had been quite adamant. Even if he would need to be sorted for a third time the hat would almost certainly send him straight back to Slytherin.

“Harry, are you even listening to me?” Hermione’s voice sounded slightly irritated.

Harry smiled at her. “Sorry. I think it is really interesting that it wasn’t unusual in the past, but that doesn’t really help me now.” He sighed. “I’m in Slytherin now and I don’t think that’s going to change. Gryffindor thinks I’m just a slimy snake and traitor now, I’m sure, and Ron...” He shrugged and found he wasn’t able to meet Hermione’s gaze.

Hermione huffed. “Ron is a hot-tempered idiot. But he will come around; he just needs time to understand. And for the rest of our – _hem_ – well, _my_ house… I don’t have the feeling that _everyone_ thinks you are a slimy snake.” She sniffed in distaste. “But some were certainly rather… _vocal_ about it in the common room yesterday evening.”

She took his hand and gave it a comforting squeeze.

“You need to be careful Harry,” she continued. “McLaggen has convinced some of them that the years of you being in Gryffindor was a plot to gather inside information, and that your resorting wasn’t the result of unforeseen circumstances.”

“What?!” Harry looked at her with wide eyes, and she nodded, crossing her arms in front of her in frustration.

“They are all behaving like a drooling, blithering idiots.” She sounded so much like McGonagall that Harry had to stifle a laugh and Hermione slapped him on the arm.

“Oh, come on. You know what I mean,” she said. “It was the same thing in second year when everyone thought you were the Heir of Slytherin, then it was fourth year with all the Champion stuff, and now _this_! They just can’t think for themselves and have no common sense. Sycophants, the lot of them.” The frustration in her voice was more than clear.

“Have you spoken with Ron?” Harry asked tentatively, but when Hermione shook her head he sighed.

“I haven’t spoken to him at all today,” she said. “I didn’t even see him at breakfast.”

Harry leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. The potential of losing his first friend over his changed house made him bitter.

“I’ll see if I can find him at lunch and talk with him. He will come around.” Hermione tried to cheer him up, but Harry didn’t even open his eyes to acknowledge it. They both knew Ron all too well.

“But what if he doesn’t? I am in Slytherin now and nothing will change that. You know how he feels about Slytherin. And what if he believes what McLaggen is saying?!”

Hermione squeezed his clenched fist.

“Harry, Ron may be in an idiot, but he knows you…”

“Does he?” Harry interrupted her in frustration. “He didn’t believe me last year that I didn’t want to participate in the bloody tournament. Why should it be any different now?”

“Because he didn’t really believe last year that you were lying, but his temper and jealousy got the better of him,” she said in a placating voice. “It didn’t even take him a week to come to his senses, but then he was too stubborn and prideful to apologize. Being in Slytherin doesn’t change who you are, and he already knows that.”

“But what if it does?” His voice sounded small.

“What?” Hermione blinked in confusion, which was not a look he was used to seeing on her face.

Harry gulped, stared down at the table and took a breath. “What if being in Slytherin changes who I am?” He didn’t want to meet her eyes, afraid of what he might see in them.

Hermione’s hands gently pulled his clenched fists apart and took hold of them.

“Why would you say something like that, Harry?” she asked, her voice gentle.

“You…” He sighed, steeled himself, and tried again. “You know a little how life with the Dursleys has been and I never had thought of myself as particularly brave. I always kept out of the way and always ran when Dudley was in the mood to bully someone.” He took a deep breath again and all the fears and insecurities began to spill out. “I loved being a Gryffindor - still do love it. I liked how the people saw me because of my house, and I began to think that I am more than what… what I’d always been. Being in Gryffindor changed me from the boy I was growing up with the Dursleys and I like who I have become because of it. But what if I was never meant to be in Gryffindor? What if the person you got to know in the last few years wasn’t the real me and I was delusional of myself or – “

“Stop, Harry.” Her voice was still just as gentle, but it made him stop, nonetheless. “Harry, do you think I am brave?”

The question startled him enough to look up. The expression in her eyes was kind and warm, and he nodded. Yes, Hermione was brave, he had no doubt about that; what other eleven-year-old would set a teacher on fire in order to rescue her friend?

“Do you think I am _only_ brave?”

He shook his head. How could she even ask? She was so much more.

“What would you say I am beside brave? Intelligent? Studious? Hard-working? Perfectionistic? Determined?”

Harry nodded.

“Sometimes tactless? An insufferable know-it-all?” Hermione grinned at that and Harry, still nodding, escaped a small laugh.

“And are those Gryffindor traits?”

Slowly, he shook his head again; they weren’t, if he thought about it.

“They aren’t, and I wouldn’t really consider myself brave or courageous. And the sorting hat had wanted to put me into _Ravenclaw_ , because I already have all the character traits for that house.” Harry wasn’t particularly surprised at that, and Hermione continued. “But it also considered Slytherin, because I was driven by the ambition to belong and succeed in this new magical world at such a young age. Despite all that, the hat didn’t entirely rule out Hufflepuff and Gryffindor for me.”

Harry looked at her, wide-eyed, and Hermione smirked at him.

“Yes, it considered all four houses for me.” Her voice sounded strangely proud of the fact. “Hufflepuff, because, even if I didn’t had friends at that point, I already knew I would be loyal to them, that I would cherish them, and because I was not above hard work. And Gryffindor, because I _wanted_ to be brave and courageous. I wanted to leave the shy and socially awkward girl I’d been in my previous school behind and actually make friends. For that, I needed to be brave enough to talk to people and open up even if it meant facing rejection like I had experienced before.” Her expression was intense.

“The hat decided on what I _wanted_ to be instead of what I already was. Belonging to a house isn’t just so you can be among like-minded people and make it more comfortable; it is also so you can reach your potential, the parts of that you _want_ to reach and even the parts you didn’t know you had.” She smiled at him and continued.

“And I would guess that was also in your case. The small boy in our first year wasn’t the bold and courageous Gryffindor I got to know over the years. You decided that you wanted to be a Gryffindor and the hat would have never put you in that house if you wouldn’t have the potential to be one. And you _are_ , Harry.” Her voice was insistent. “You are brave and daring and perhaps the most courageous person I know. Not many people could have lived through what you have and come out the kind and wonderful person that you are.”

She squeezed his hand again and Harry tried to keep control of all the fear and hope and… he didn’t know what else, it was too much. He blinked, his eyes burned in a way that he knew if he would let go even a little bit, he would cry.

“But that is not all you are. You are also determined and cunning, resourceful and you have great leadership skills. All those are Slytherin traits and the reason the sorting hat would put you there. But I think that your ambition was the point which decided it this time. After what had happened at the end of the last school year…” She paused. “It is no wonder the experience changed you, or at least changed your priorities. I think I’m right when I say that you want to fight You-Know-Who? That you will not stand by idly, that you are determined to stop him?”

Harry simply nodded; his throat too blocked with emotions to speak. Never had he imagined that Hermione could read him so easily. If it hadn’t been one of his best friends, he would have been terrified.

“That’s a kind of ambition. It doesn’t matter that you don’t want to have money or power or fame. You want You-Know-Who to be defeated and you want to help with that. It doesn’t matter that you want it in part out of revenge –“ Harry shook his head vehemently, but his friend only laughed quietly. “Oh Harry, nobody would begrudge you some slightly vengeful thoughts, and after everything you are entitled to them.

“What I want to say, Harry, is that we are far more than a handful of personality traits and, and we shouldn’t be reduced to a schoolhouse defining us. Different circumstances will bring out different traits. Being in the house known for determination, cunning, and ambition will not change you since you’ve always had those traits,” she said with a small smile. “And you will always also be brave and daring and reckless, but also loyal and kind and so much more. You will always be Harry, the very first friend I ever made.”

Harry still couldn’t speak but he hugged Hermione as hard as he could, conveying everything he wanted to say in that hug. Judging by the way Hermione hugged back he could tell she knew and understood. They stayed like this for a while and when he settled back into his chair, he could finally clear his throat.

“When did you get that intelligent and insightful?” He teased with a grin, feeling lighter than he had in weeks - since he had found out about the sorting, really. Hermione laughed and punched him slightly on the arm.

“Thank you, Hermione.” He squeezed her arm shortly.

“Anytime, Harry. that’s what friends are for. Now, tell me what that meeting with Professor Snape was about,” she demanded.

And Harry did, but he left out that he had never gone to the yearly health checks before, as well as the concerns they had over his health and eating habits.

 

* * *

 

Hermione started grilling him for details about the differences between Gryffindor and Slytherin after he had told her what his morning had been like. She also voiced concerns about how the Slytherins had been treating him and Harry had to tell her several times that so far, he hadn’t been bullied, mistreated, or even ignored. He didn’t voice his concerns that he didn’t think it would stay that way.

“It is really interesting how different Professor Snape his handling his duties as the Head of House compared to Professor McGonagall. Don’t you think so? Do you think it has something to do with the age difference? Professor Snape is about our parents’ age, while Professor McGonagall was already the Head of House when your parents, Professor Lupin, and Sirius were here as students.” Hermione mused, not in the least put out by Harry’s silence. “I won’t say that one way is better than the other, but Professor Snape seems definitely more invested in the lives of his students. And I am actually intrigued by these tutoring classes; it’s so hard to get one of the upper years to help.”

Harry frowned at her. “What would you need one of the upper years for? You don’t need any help in your schoolwork.”

“Oh, Harry, do you think I really love spending that much time researching?”

“Actually… yes.” He looked at her in confusion.

Hermione sighed. “Yes, I do love the library, but sometimes I would like to read books for enjoyment rather than just schoolwork. And some classes are hard even for me, and it would be so much easier to ask an upper year to explain the things I didn’t understand instead of searching through book after book.”

A person appeared beside their table before Harry could respond. He looked up and wasn’t entirely surprised to see Zabini. When Harry craned his neck to look around him, he could see Malfoy, Parkinson, and some of the others standing near the library entrance.

“Potter, we thought it would be nice to go to lunch all together. What do you think?” Zabini smiled at him.

Harry frowned. He hadn’t seen them in the library earlier, so why would they come get him for lunch? He again glanced towards the people standing at the door and caught Malfoy's eyes. He stared at him in a way that Harry wasn’t quite sure how to interpret, but when he leaned to the side and whispered something to Parkinson, he remembered – Malfoy and Parkinson were the 5th year Slytherin prefects, and Snape had told him that the prefects would be informed of his diet plan and the potions he had to take at breakfast.

By the looks both were directing his way, that had already happened. And it was lunchtime, which Harry had completely forgotten about, but here they were, getting him for lunch…

Great. He had Slytherin babysitters.

Zabini was still smiling at him and Harry stood up with a groan. It didn’t look like he could escape them and at least nobody was being antagonistic; if he went along with it, perhaps it would remain peaceful.

He looked at Hermione, who had a puzzled yet intrigued expression on her face. He suppressed another groan. _Wonderful_. His brilliant best friend had obviously realized that something was going on that she wasn’t privy to, and it wouldn’t be like her to stop before figuring out what it was.

“Are you coming?” Harry gestured to the door. “We can at least walk to the hall together. Or would it be better if they didn’t see you interacting with me?” He tried to ask the last question quietly enough so that only Hermione could hear it but judging from Zabini’s frown he hadn’t been quiet enough.

Hermione’s expression changed instantly, and her voice sounded clipped when she spoke. “If someone has a problem with me walking with my best friend, then they will have the unfortunate experience to learn what spells and curses I picked up while helping you prepare for the tournament last year.” She set her chin in a stubborn line and stood up. She nodded to Zabini, who couldn’t hide a grin at her words and together they walked to the entrance.

“Let’s go to lunch.” Zabini opened the door and Harry and Hermione nodded to the others who followed them out of the library. The entire trip to the Great Hall felt a bit awkward as Harry could sense the assessing gazes of Malfoy and Parkinson on his back. At least it didn’t seem like they had told the rest of his yearmates he thought gratefully as he said goodbye to Hermione. He wasn’t getting any strange looks – or stranger looks than before, anyway - as he sat down at the Slytherin table.

Lunch was surprisingly quiet and even nice, in an odd kind of way, and nobody commented on the fact that Harry’s plate had filled automatically. The Slytherins talked about their upcoming classes and about their holidays. They tried to include Harry in their conversation, asking him about his summer, which he answered, albeit vaguely.

At one point they talked about the new Professors – or _one_ Professor, at least, as Grubbly-Plank wasn’t actually new.

“I heard Dumbledore couldn’t find someone to fill the Defence position in time, so the Ministry jumped in and appointed her,” Greengrass remarked, all of them briefly looking to the teacher’s table and at the Professor clad from head to toe in pink again.

Davis shuddered. “It shouldn’t be allowed to wear such horrid… clothes where sensitive children’s eyes could see them,” she said. “I am sure that after this year everyone here will have some kind of trauma linked to the colour pink.”

Bulstrode snorted at that and Harry couldn’t suppress the small grin that escaped him. “Yeah, she was actually really horrible at my hearing.”

Instantly everyone looked at him.

“You know her?” Davis asked curiously.

Harry nodded. “A little. She was at my hearing and was rather… vocal about me being guilty,” he said “Wasn’t really happy that I got away. I don’t think she likes me, but by the way she looked at Fudge, she _definitely_ likes the Minister.” He shrugged, while everyone around him shuddered.

“My father told me about her,” Malfoy added. “She is the Undersecretary to the Minister, but it seems she is rather useless, and Fudge was quite happy to get rid of her.”

“Oh, wow, it’s nice to know that the Ministry takes our education that serious.” Davis deadpanned and snickers filled their part of the table.

“But seriously, Fudge wanted to have an insider at Hogwarts,” Malfoy continued. “He doesn’t trust Dumbledore anymore. Seems to think he’s power-hungry or something and wants to corrupt the minds of children.”

“And they think sending… _that_ would help him?” Bulstrode grumbled, gesturing to Umbridge. “Did you open the Defence book for this year? It seems to me the classes will be completely theoretical. Theory only, in our O.W.L. year!” she huffed. “The seventh years are also not happy about the curriculum. If they hinder our education, it will only anger the students, and with them their parents and families, and that will certainly not be positive for the Minister.”

Harry looked at the tall and bulky girl in astonishment. He never had heard her speak so many words, not even in classes when she was called on by a professor.

Zabini elbowed him. “Don’t look so surprised. Milli doesn’t look like it and doesn’t like to display it,but she has a mind sharp as a knife,” he whispered with a laugh in his voice. “But she is too obsessed with runes to use it for anything else, she tends to forget all the other classes beside it and everything else, too.”

Harry quickly glanced at Zabini and then at Bulstrode, who flashed a small but very amused grin at him.

“Nothing more interesting than runes,” she said “You can practically do anything with them without lifting your wand even once. Sadly, most of the knowledge was lost in the medieval times.” She sighed, trailed off, and got a far-away look in her eyes.

“And Millicent is out of the conversation for a while,” Greengrass drawled. She shook her head and removed the plate from Millicent’s place, where she had started drawing runes in the rest of her mashed potatoes with her fork absentmindedly.

The conversation turned to the other classes and what they could expect in their O.W.L. year. Harry listened, but his gaze wandered to Bulstrode more than once. Her statement about runes intrigued him and his own rather new interest in them had made him wonder what else was possible. Perhaps he could ask her once they were back in the common room? She might even be able to recommend him a book or two.

His hand stopped halfway in bringing his goblet to his lips, when he realized that he had already become more comfortable with the people around him, and he hadn’t even been in Slytherin for a full day yet. He didn’t know if it was deliberate, but they had included him and behaved rather like normal teenagers. It was a far cry from what the Gryffindors thought they would act like – like evil wizards, planning to take over the world, or at least the school. Instead, gossip, talk of classes and holidays surrounded him.

Was it all just their plan? Did they only behave like that to make him relax and bring his guard down?

He instantly felt bad about that thought. Whatever their parents were, they were only teenager, like he was. And yes, some of them had behaved rather unpleasantly in the past, but even the unpleasant ones were trying with Harry. When he looked around and studied their faces, he couldn’t bring up the old suspicion anymore. He didn’t think it was a plot; they were simply teenagers behaving like teenagers.

Teenagers with more manners and decorum than the rather loud and sometimes uncontrolled lions, but teenagers, nonetheless. 

He sighed and reminded himself that if he didn’t want to be prejudiced against based on his blood, family, or former house, he should definitely try to reign in his prejudice and suspicion.

“Potter? Hey, are you still with us?” Zabini’s elbow brought him back to the conversation at the table.

Harry blinked and looked up to see everyone gazing at him curiously. He gave them a sheepish smile. “Yeah, sorry. Got a little side-tracked. What is it?”

Zabini studied him for a moment, then continued. “We decided to spend the afternoon outside. The sun is shining, and it could be our last Saturday where we can completely relax. Are you coming with us?”

Harry thought shortly about it, then nodded. “But I have to go to the dorm for a moment. With everything that was going on, I didn’t have to the time to look over my summer assignments again and I really don’t want to give Sn… _Professor_ Snape another reason to be angry with me. Being resorted into Slytherin did that already.” Nobody commented on his near slip of tongue.

Davis gave him a sharp look. “I don’t think that he is really angry with you about being resorted - not that you could have done anything to prevent it. But it really would be better if your summer homework is up to his standard,” she said.

“He tends to be stricter with us when it comes down to it. If you want, I can give it a quick look over and point out where you need to change things. Perhaps if you ask nicely, I even tell you what exactly to add, delete, or change.” She grinned and Zabini at his side whistled.

“That’s an offer you really should take, Potter,” he said “Tracey is normally not the one to voluntarily help with homework. And she is the perfect choice to ask for help, especially in potions.”

Harry blinked at them, confused. “If it’s potions, wouldn’t Malfoy be the perfect choice?”

Malfoy looked a little startled by Harry’s comment, but shook his head. “I am only good in potions because I was tutored in it since I was child, and because I study for it to be up to Professor Snape’s standard. I could explain everything that’s in the schoolbooks, but Tracey… she is on a completely different level, and not only in Potions.” Malfoy smiled at his friend briefly and Harry was astonished how it transformed his normally pointy and haughty face.

“You have Granger, but we have our own genius and she doesn’t even have to study for it,” he continued “Knowledge comes easy to her and whenever she decides to engage in something, she is brilliant in it. She could sit her O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s now if she wanted, but…” He trailed off.

“I am too lazy.” Davis smiled, took a sip from her pumpkin juice and leaned against Bulstrode at her side. “Yes, apparently my mind is working on a genius level and I’ve never studied a day in my life. I read a book or hear something and it’s all in here, drawing connections to other things, ripping it apart to understand the fundamentals.” She gestured to her head.

“But it makes classes and schoolwork rather mind-numbing. I tend to get distracted and bored. I’d rather experiment with spells, charms, and potions than do what the teachers want from me. Drives them crazy.” She grinned again.

“Quite similar to your talent on a broom, I think, Potter.”

Harry couldn’t completely wrap his mind around the different things he had learned in the last hour about people he thought he knew for the last four years, but he grinned back. If he was proud of anything, it was his flying abilities.

“Sounds right.”

“Then are you going for the try-outs?” Zabini enquired.

Harry shook his head. “No, it’s already enough needing to get used to being in another house, on top of O.W.L.s this year,” he said “Besides, you already have a good seeker.” He gestured to Malfoy who looked at him with a rather strange expression.

“But let’s be blunt - you are better,” Greengrass stated “You are a natural on the broom and Draco couldn’t defeat you even once.”

To Harry’s surprise, Malfoy nodded with a pained expression.

“But if I am out of the game, there isn’t anyone else that could beat Malfoy,” he said “So... if I’m not playing, he’ll be the best seeker of the school, and that should be enough for Slytherin to win. I really do have enough other things to do, even without Quidditch,” Harry elaborated. He caught the small satisfied grin on Malfoy’s face, but he wasn’t sure if it was because of Slytherin’s chances on winning this year, or due to the hint of a compliment.

“And you don’t want to antagonize your old house by playing against them,” Bulstrode remarked dryly.

“That, too,” Harry acknowledged, without looking at anyone.

They were silent for a while, then Zabini stood, breaking up the slight awkwardness. “Let’s get outside and enjoy our last lazy Saturday for a year.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **AN:** Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think.
> 
> Many thanks to vichan and Cameron Lindsey for helping to improve my grammar and spelling.
> 
> First published: 27th of May 2019


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